


Kiss the Girl

by Throwthemflowers



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Action & Romance, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood Spells, F/F, Fingering, Girl Direction, High Fantasy, I hope this covers it..., Magic, Mpreg Harry, Mystery, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Oh, Oral Sex, Strangers to Lovers, but she's a girl..., danger and thrills, lactation play, literally ALL the fantasy, mermaid au, romantic lesbians on beaches, soft lesbians in antique stores
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-23
Updated: 2019-06-24
Packaged: 2020-03-13 06:57:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 48,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18935755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Throwthemflowers/pseuds/Throwthemflowers
Summary: Hopeless lesbian Louanna Tomlinson moves to St. Petersburg hoping to forget her recent heartbreak and get a fresh start amid the salty sea air. While working at a mermaid bar isn't exactly what she planned on, one particular mermaid catches her eye, and her heart; Harriet is a confounding confusion of innocence and eagerness, and Lou absolutely cannot figure her out. Harriet loves to swim, but can't touch the sea. She's eager for Lou to show her everything from vintage antique shops to the art of kissing, yet she seems always too wary, as if some shadow follows her footsteps every day, as if some truth could destroy the love that has grown between them.Featuring girl love, ancient rituals, sea lore, and perhaps the most beautiful treasure in the entire ocean.





	1. Three Inch Glass

**Author's Note:**

> HELLO this is finally finally DONE. Thank you to all my long suffering WIP readers, you have my whole entire heart. So this is my first girl direction, and I admit I was a bit scared going in... but this has honestly been the most sappy, wish-fulling, beautiful writing experience of my life. Did I perhaps go a bit off the deep end (pun intended) and delve into high fantasy and probably more angst than is good for me? Yes. But damn it felt so so good. I hope you enjoy this as much as I have, and as always, thank you for reading. I'm hazzabeeforlou on tumblr if you ever wanna say hi <3 Toni

Lou was a northerner, through and through. The sweat dripping from her collarbones down to her navel reminded her of this fact, reminded her that she now lived so very far from home, the opposite of home, the cornfields and wildflowers and endless forests of her youth replaced by blazing concrete and burning sand and ocean. Ocean, which should have felt freeing and fresh and _fun_ , because that’s what how people always described beach life in the magazines. But instead the endless waves of St. Petersburg seemed stifling, caging, suffocating for some reason, and Lou questioned her rash decision to run, now. She should have listened to the Reverend Mother from Sound of Music: “You can’t run from your problems, Maria, you have to _face_ them.”

She’d run anyway, though, right into Niallie’s arms, a crying, hot-blooded mess, fragile and spiky with the pain of betrayal. Imagined betrayal, perhaps, because she’d never out and out _said_ she loved Veronica, her best friend since forever, since age thirteen, since they’d played dress up games in her closet and watched each other strip off layers of clothing and chokers and those bulky plastic watches to put on silks and chiffons and _fairy clothes_ atop their underwear, since Veronica had curled next to her one night and just touched her _arm_ and it had been more affection than Lou had gotten in an entire adolescence. But in love she was, and in love she remained as Veronica fell for Li, as Veronica got engaged to Li, as Veronica married Li. Sure, she’d stood up in the wedding, given the obligatory best friend’s speech, and she’d meant it, because Li was a wonderful human and they were literally _perfect_ for Veronica and suited her much better than Lou would have herself and yet…

After it all she’d sobbed on her mom’s shoulder and announced her abrupt departure from four regular seasons to suffer along the tropic time-warp of the Florida coast.

Fortunately, she had Niallie, and Niallie’s couch, and Niallie’s help getting a job. Unfortunately, this job involved pretending to _like_ the ocean and all its inhabitants, and pretend games reminded Lou of Veronica.

_The Bulkhead_ had been around for ages, the décor resembling the _Nautilus’_ interior from the Kirk Douglas movie. Mood lit with dim blue lights, flickering lanterns on each table, and floors and tables and booths of polished leather and rough hewn wood, the restaurant did nothing to stave off Lou’s panicky remembrances of pretence. She and Veronica used to believe in all types of magic.

Now Lou had to work alongside mermaids.

They weren’t real, of course, but the triple-sided aquarium that had replaced the restaurant's walls housed the most beautiful fish and coral and shells, and, on Friday nights and weekends, actual live-actor mermaids.

When Niallie had told her about his, Lou assumed the place a kind of Hooters, in that patrons came solely to gawk at the bodies of svelte young women in scanty breast restraints and skin tight ‘tails’ from usually unavailable angles, but on her first weekend at _The Bulkhead_ , Lou realized she’d been wrong.

Families poured in, most with very young children, so many that the crayon bundles Lou handed out with the treasure-map placemat got dispersed all over the floor and subsequently crushed, and Lou ended up with a good deal of smeared, hot crayon on the bottoms of her vans. But Lou got it. The mermaids _defined_ entrancing. Somehow these women managed to slip into silicon-formed tails and hold their breath underwater and _dance_ , if you could call it that, and look graceful and let their hair swoosh out behind them. If anyone had told Lou she’d go from being heartbroken to living in an actual lesbian fantasy within a week she’d have laughed in their face. Yet here she was.

Lesbian fantasy aside, after a few weeks of work she’d made a good enough impression (she had a likable charisma, thankfully) for the shift manager, Stevie, to ask her about working Sundays. Having only worked six day weeks, Lou had assumed the Sunday mermaid show the same as the others—her first mistake.

“Sunday?” Niallie asked from her position scooping cat litter into a bag the day after Lou had agreed to cover the shift. “Don’t you want a day off, though?”

“A day off for what? So I can soak up the local culture?” Lou made a face and flopped her head against the back of the couch. “Or dwell on the thrilling happiness of my thoughts? Ya, no thanks.”

“Life’s what you make it, Louanna.”

“God that sounds like my mother. And please leave that name in the junk heap of my history.”

“Did she call you it?” Niallie asked, a hint of trepidation in her tone, as if she knew she toyed with a sleeping bear.

“Ya. So it’s Lou now.”

“Bold.”

“Shut up.” Lou tossed a pillow at her, hitting the cat litter box instead and sending up a puff of dusty granules. “Besides,” she continued, “I could use the extra cash. Mom could use the extra cash. And I’ll get to watch the mermaids again, so it’s not all torture.”

“Correction,” Niallie tied the poop bag and threw it by the door, “There’s only one mermaid on Sundays.”

Lou blinked at this. “Oh?”

“Don’t ask me, I have no clue why, but she’s always there alone. Much better tail than all the rest, though, it’s so fucking pretty. You’ll be in love with her in seconds, she’s yummy.”

Something about Niallie referencing the mermaid’s taste when the restaurant’s patrons were quite literally _tasting_ the fish she shared the tank with sat a bit uncomfortably in Lou’s stomach, but when she got to work Sunday afternoon, she suddenly understood Niallie’s descriptor.

No sooner had she set foot in the restaurant than her eyes magnetized to the tank, some force making her heart thump audibly in her chest as she looked upon the most beautiful girl she’d ever seen. Not beautiful like Veronica—not with perfect, chiseled features and symmetry that made gods jealous and dark eyes like coals from the center of the earth—but instead a girl with wide features, features that seemed like they could come apart at any moment, an openness in her face, her body, that left room for everything, everyone, _Louis_ , and this beckoned her closer as the mermaid girl flipped and wiggled through the water, a tangle of curls floating like a halo around her whenever she became still.

It took a tap on her shoulder to bring Lou back to reality.

“I see Harriet has a new fan,” Stevie whispered in Lou’s ear.

“Er,” Lou stuttered, caught. Stevie just patted her shoulder once more and handed her the Sunday specials menu before returning to her tasks. When Lou glanced up at the mermaid again she found the girl staring back, and she felt doubly caught. The girl—Harriet, she supposed—smiled, the sheen of her incredibly detailed silicon tail matching the exact green of her eyes.

Lou suddenly felt totally unable to survive Sundays.

*

“I asked for hash browns, not fries,” a pinched looking woman with a glass bead necklace informed Lou as she returned to top up drinks. 

“Oh, gosh, you totally did, I’m so sorry.”

But Lou _wasn’t_ sorry, exactly, because to be truly repentant one had to actually change one’s faulty behavior, and Lou had no intention of _not_ staring at Harriet to the point of distraction. Might it cost her this job? Possibly. Did it seem worth it? Oh. Did it _ever_.

Harriet the mermaid (Lou still didn’t know her last name) didn’t just swim through the blue-lit tank, she _glided_ through the water like some elemental siren, her turns and dives charting courses like constellations in the heavens, constellations that turned with the earth, rearranging into new wonders each Sunday yet still recognizable, still familiar, still predictable. In other words, Lou spent far too much of her shift gawking unabashedly in Harriet’s direction.

And part of her thought that Harriet noticed this, because from time to time Lou would catch the other girl grinning to herself after executing a particularly stunning move, perhaps pleased with how her boobs pulled and pushed against the force of the water when she turned (Lou had never been so thankful for weightless suspension). The other part of Lou thought this amounted to a delusion of her own yearning, and she tried very hard to squash the pain that strangled her heart at closing time each Sunday. Yet… Harriet _did_ seem to nearly follow her from table to table, performing in places where Lou could keep a constant eye.

“I’ve got to leave—Lou?”

Harriet had flipped, the tip of her tail touching the back of her chocolate curls in a near perfect ring, and Lou had been contemplating her incredible flexibility, wondering just how that could perhaps be put to use on dry land…

“Lou? I’ll just stand here, then, shall I.” Stevie rolled her eyes, stepping between Lou and the tank. “I am trying to tell you that I’ve got to head out early tonight. You’re closing. That means you’ll have to give this to Harriet when she comes out.”

Stevie held out an envelope presumably containing payment. Lou froze.

“Well?”

“S-sure. Yes. I will do exactly that, yes.” Lou willed herself to be strong.

“Maybe,” Stevie said with a not unkind tease in her voice, “Harriet will give you an autograph.”

Lou turned five shades of red as Stevie smirked.

The remaining diners got their food, or as much of it as they _really_ needed, because honestly Lou did not care if pickles were on the side or on the fucking burger itself, she was going to _meet Harriet the mermaid_ and perhaps _talk_ with her and maybe their fingertips would brush when she handed the girl her check and—

“So can we order dessert? Or…”

“Yes, of course, I’m so sorry,” Lou floundered, “We have a delicious chocolate pussy—PUDDING—um, and um, we, um,” Lou trailed off, her reserves of dessert choices utterly failing her.

“We’ll take the crème brûlée,” the man said tersely, not making Lou feel any better for her crimson face or pained expression.

“Certainly, I’ll have that eat out—right out to you.”

She signed heavily and bee-lined for the kitchen, her stomach twisting in several awful knots. Somehow she managed to serve the couple their dessert and take care of their tab and close the front door and put the ‘closed’ sign on the front door and by the time she’d completed these tasks Harriet had slipped from the tank and only schools of clownfish followed her around the restaurant as she cleaned tables.

Lou couldn’t guess how much time it took to shimmy out of a silicon tail, dry oneself off, and put clothes on (this line of thinking did nothing for her productivity or concentration) but she gave it a good fifteen minutes to cover her bases. She doubted very much she could survive walking in on a half-dressed Harriet-the-mermaid and live to tell the tail… er, tale.

When she deemed the risk safely passed, she broached the tank room door and knocked.

“Ya?” Said a voice that could only be Harriet’s because it sounded like the inside of a seashell on a sun blistered-beach (also because Harriet was the only person in the room). 

“I have your pay from Stevie,” Lou squeaked, her voice sounding a good octave higher than normal and wobbling badly, and she alternately wanted to melt into the floor or fling herself at Harriet’s feet and beg forgiveness for sullying her ears with such unworthiness.

In the end she didn’t have long to contemplate her vocal failure because Harriet opened the door. She wore bright floral leggings and flip-flops and her toenails shone a garish bright neon-pink and a loose fitting white tee-shirt hung about her shoulders getting soaked from her Van Gogh-ian mop of wet curls. And she clearly didn’t believe in bras. 

“Is Stevie okay?”

Harriet, of course, starred in concern and worry at Lou while Lou, well… Lou had just started a new religion and couldn’t be bothered to look up from where Harriet’s cold, damp nipples gave new meaning to three dimensions. 

“S-she’s fine, yes, just left early.” Lou tried to gain the courage to meet Harriet’s eyes.

“Um.”

Harriet stood a bit taller than her, Lou realized now, but she forgave herself the miscalculation, as she’d never seen the other girl without her mermaid tail.

“You have money for me?”

“Right.” Lou promptly dropped the envelope to the floor where Harriet’s stationary dripping had left a wet puddle. Of course it soaked up said puddle and became a soggy piece of wood pulp in about two seconds.

“Fuck, I’m sorry, shit,” Lou cursed, bending to retrieve the calamity.

“Don’t worry, it will dry out! I think.” Harriet crouched down too, but then her flip-flops failed in their one task of being a shoe and sent her feet slipping out from under her. She landed on her butt with a thud, right into the puddle. Lou instinctively reached out to help, but Harriet suddenly scrambled away from her, staggering up and nearly _jumping_ back into the tank room before slamming the door.

Lou stood in shock a moment, then worry assaulted her. “Harriet? Are you okay? Oh god…” 

“I’m—sorry—“ Harriet called through the thick wood a moment later, “I, um… just give me a second!”

And Lou would have given her an eternity, but the whole sequence of events had so stunned her that she simply squatted in silence, the soggy envelope between her fingers, until Harriet re-opened the door, a towel now wrapped around her waist and the wet leggings slung over her arm.

“Sorry about that,” she said, looking for all the world like a guilty puppy.

“No, no, it’s entirely my fault, I dropped it. Are you alright?” 

“Yep! Totally fine. You look different without the three inch glass,” Harriet giggled, and then Harriet _smiled_ at her.

“So do you… more human.” Lou cringed at her own words as soon as she’d uttered them, but Harriet burst out in another fit of laughter.

“You’ve hit the nail right on the head! That’s my new favorite expression, by the way, I just learned it yesterday.”

Lou felt her heart actually begin to melt within her, to drip down through her other organs and pool in her tingling toes. “Ya? You’d never heard it before?”

“Nope. I keep a journal of all the different ones, and sometimes? I even fill up a page a day!”

Lou would have let a bit of incredulity slip onto her face, but Harriet said this with such eager normalcy that Lou decided perhaps the girl had just grown up rather sheltered from colloquialisms.

“I’m a veritable gold mine of expressions,” Lou offered, a smidge of bait that the beautiful, towel-wearing mermaid-girl could take or leave.

Harriet responded with the most brazen blush in the history of blushes, for it started at her cheeks and worked all the way down her neck and to her chest, and Lou only knew this because her flushed temperature had an immediate and noticeable effect on the texture of her bra-less tee-shirt.

“Er,” Lou tore her eyes away, not without pain, and presented Harriet once more with the wet envelope. “You’d better take this before I drop it again.”

“Thanks,” Harriet said softly, and her fingers did indeed touch Lou’s as she took the money. “What’s your name?”

“Lou.” The green depths of Harriet’s eyes ensconced her, trapper her. 

“Oh I like that. You can call me Harry, if you want. I make everyone else call me Harriet, but I think you’re safe enough.”

Lou wrinkled her brows but a smile kept growing on her face despite her confusion. “I’m glad you think so, I certainly am, er, safe.”

“Not for dollars, though.”

Lou felt her cheeks grow hot. “Uh, no. It seems not.”

Then, out of the blue and with no transition whatsoever, Harry asked, “What’s a chocolate pussy?”

Lou choked on her own spit and blinked five times. “I’m SORRY?”

“You offered the couple one, so I was just curious. Is it another expression?”

Lou had always planned on living a normal, long life, but right then, as she immolated in cool flames of shame, she felt very ready to meet the sweet embrace of non-existence.

“NO! No, no, I misspoke, it has nothing to do with dessert.”

“Oh. But it is a type of food, then? Savory? Salty?” Harry asked earnestly, _authentically_ curious. 

Lou groaned. “You could… say so.” Had this girl really never heard of pussy?

“You don’t kill the pets, though, do you? Are there wild ones? Wild pussies?”

In the entranceway to the tank room, standing around a puddle made by Harry’s dripping locks, Lou found herself needing to explain that _eating pussy_ did not mean shish kabob-ing someone’s pet cat. Honestly her day had taken too many unexpected turns.

“You’re not pulling my leg, are you?” Lou ventured, wanting to make sure she hadn’t somehow missed a massive amount of sarcasm.

“AH! I’ve heard that one before! Lemme think. It’s not actually about tugging, it refers to… hold on give me a second… telling a joke! Right?”

With all her might Lou fought the instinct to lunge forward and kiss Harry, to lick into her nonsensical mouth and taste these ridiculous sentences for herself. “You’re not wrong…”

“I _knew_ it! So, no, I’m not pulling your leg. Not that I wouldn’t want to, though; you do have very nice legs. They’re actually, wow, they’re so beautiful? How do you get them to have curves like that? Oh please say you’ll show me!”

Lou blinked eight times. “Show you… how to get curvy legs?”

“Yes!”

Lou paused only a moment before deciding to use Harry’s curiosity to her own advantage.  
“Are you, er, free? Now? By any chance?”

“I wish. Maybe someday.” Harry smiled a little sadly at her.

“No, I mean,” Lou inherently knew she’d been misunderstood, though Harry’s answer still troubled her, “Are you free to _do something_ with me right now? Because if you want me to tell you about all that I’d rather not do so in the back of this restaurant.”

Harry broke into a dazzling grin. “Oh.” Her wet curls bounced as she nodded. “Yes.”

 

Lou and the Sunday mermaid from _The Bulkhead_ began to wander the silent streets of St. Petersburg in the wee hours of Monday morning. They grabbed a milkshake, an activity Lou couldn’t help thinking solidified this as more a date than a casual hang (because milkshakes were _gay_ and Harry slurping hers up through a straw too small for her mouth made Lou need to clench her thighs together and concentrate on steady breathing). Lou reminded herself that Harry could be quite oblivious to this, as Harry seemed to be oblivious to most things. No sooner had they purchased their treats from the ‘late-night stoner’s stand’ (as Lou called it) than Harry had begun asking a slew of questions, starting with who had invented the ‘flexible glass’ because she wanted to have a word with them, wanted to tell them that plastic was incredibly un-helpful to ocean ecosystems. Lou had indulged her by making a quick Google search, half wondering if Harry had let her mermaid position go to her head a bit. But she didn’t have much time to question Harry’s intentions as the other girl spun through five different topics in as many minutes; Lou had to just cling on for dear life. It seemed, once you got Harriet out of the water, she couldn’t use up her words.

“I love bread.”

Lou fought back a small brain freeze as they walked from a circular brick path towards the beach’s boardwalk.

“Oh?” Not knowing which way the conversation would turn, Louis contented herself with another cold straw-full of shake.

“It reminds me of sponges! Especially the sourdough kind. I mean, I would never use it to wash with, since it dissolves in water and all, but it’s really so clever, you just pull on it and it comes apart but it stays all springy and squishy? And it’s amazing to chew! Oh, I love chewing it.”

Lou’s heart actually stuttered. “You like chewing bread?”

“It’s for sure my favorite thing to chew. Next to taffy. You know they make saltwater taffy? I’m so proud of it…” Harry’s voice trailed off and she got a soft look in her eyes.

“Do you have a favorite flavor?” Lou asked, because she might as well die all at once.

Harry bit her lower lip, dimples forming in her cheeks. “Probably the watermelon. I’d never tasted watermelon before.”

“Really?”

“I love fruits. They’re so full of ocean, like you’ve dipped the sweetest flavors in water and somehow kept it from sliding off! And they’re so pink and red on the inside, and I can get my whole mouth around them and taste _everything_.”

The integrity of Lou’s panties had long since been compromised, so at this point she didn’t even try to fight the stickiness between her legs.

“Can we watch the sunrise? I used to watch it back home, but I hate doing it alone. It looks so different from here.”

Lou had to be at work by ten, but what did sleep matter when the girl of her every fantasy wanted to watch a star ascend into the heavens?

“Of course we can. Wanna walk the beach?”

Harry nodded and Lou held out her hand tentatively; Harry took it, and every nerve of Lou’s body felt so incredibly alive as they walked along under the boardwalk lamps.

Both of them kept silent for a while, nursing their shakes until they began slurping up more air than liquid, making suck-y noises that disturbed the tranquil seagull calls overhead.

“I’ve seen a couple movies like this,” Harry offered without any context at all.

“About… beaches?”

“About walking on beaches. Usually a really tall guy with like, sharp jaw bones like a shark? He’s with a skinny blonde lady and they end up kissing. Is that what you use beaches for?”

Lou had to swallow her heartbeat. “Those are just movies, you know, romance stories. Lots of people walk on beaches. Surely you’ve seen them? Like, in the daytime?”

“I don’t come to the beach in the daytime, it’s a little risky.”

“Oh.” Harry offered this information, again, with no further explanation. “Well, if you did, you’d see them.”

“But is it because we’re not a tall guy and blonde girl?”

“Is what because we’re not a tall guy and blonde girl?” 

Lou could see shreds of dawn beginning to fill up the dark void of the horizon, the glowing coals of that light turning Harry’s skin a peachy pink.

“Is that why you’re not kissing me?” 

Lou swallowed, and Harry continued. 

“Does it have to be like that? Could it be two girls?” 

Lou swallowed again. “Ya, ‘course.”

“I was hoping so.” Harry got the softest smile on her face. “You do want to kiss me, don’t you?”

Lou’s knees nearly gave out and she couldn’t respond because she kept using all her strength to remain upright.

“Because I see you watching me, at the restaurant. You like watching me, don’t you? I’ve thought for a while that it would be really nice to kiss you, too.”

Things like this didn’t just _happen_. Beautiful, strange girls with soft dimples and impossible mouths didn’t just _offer_ themselves to you on deserted beaches at sunrise. And yet… spell or dream or fantasy, Lou would take it. Lou would take it _all_.

“Yes, yes I want to kiss you.”

Harry stilled and closed her eyes; the rising sun played off her rosy eyelids as she pursed her lips towards Lou. With trembling fingers Lou clasped Harry’s face in her hands and brought their lips together, hardly daring to believe in her reality.

The kiss grew warm and deep and cleansing, like diving into the ocean and finding the water thick and soft as polished pearls. Lou couldn’t help letting out a whimper as their tongues smoothed along each other’s lips, sealing the soft skin there, a promise. Harry’s hands soon found their way to Lou’s lower back and perched like roosting sparrows.

“Harry...” Lou murmured, entirely bewitched, pausing only briefly to utter her name before continuing to kiss her mouth.

“Air is much better for kissing,” Harry whispered. “This way I can feel the difference between the dry parts,” she kissed Lou deeply again, “And I can tell how hot you are inside, hot and wet.”

Lou moaned, her pulse dropping down to thud miserably between her legs. Perhaps emboldened by the cloying romance of the dawn, she ventured, “S’not just my mouth, Harry.” She couldn’t be sure the other girl would know her meaning, but she had to say it, had to let her know.

“Oh?” Harry queried, the picture of innocence. “Where else are you hot and wet, Lou?”

“Fuck.” Lou ducked her head in embarrassment and overwhelm. “Do you really not—"

“Show me,” Harry said, her voice so quiet Lou couldn’t be sure she’d not imagined it, but then Harry placed her palm against Lou’s tummy, an offer, an invitation. Slowly, nearly in a stupor, Lou unbuttoned her jean shorts and took Harry’s hand in her own, guiding the other girl under the waistband of her now-ruined panties. She could have sworn Harry stopped breathing as her fingers found Lou’s soft, curly hair.

“Your heart is beating here,” Harry observed, her tone one of awe.

“Ya that… happens.”

The sun crested the horizon just as Harry slid her fingers into Lou’s warm slick. She spread it around, her fingers not seeming to know where to go, simply exploring the crevices and mounds between Lou’s legs. Inadvertently a finger slipped inside where Lou burned hottest, and without thinking Lou thrust down, spearing herself deeper, desperate for relief.

“Oh…” Harry said again, her voice full of catches even in one simple syllable. Perhaps she had no experience, but she read Lou well and pushed the same finger in again, harder.

“God, fuck,” Lou whimpered, falling to the taller girl’s chest and burying her face in the soft, bra-less breasts she found there as Harry fingered her over and over and over. Lou’s hips began to roll and her body started to quake, and soon she came into Harry’s gentle hand, her wetness seeping out, glazing the other girl’s waiting palm.

Harry pulled free and brought her fingers to her face. She stared in wonder at the sticky substance coating her, marveling as strands of goo spread like spider webs between her knuckles.

“It’s like jelly,” Harry giggled, popping one finger into her mouth before Lou could even try to recover from the sight of seeing Harry’s glistening hand in the warm morning sun. “Tastes a little like the sea,” she whispered, her eyes big and blown and dark.

Lou had no experience with being at a loss for words. She fought for the scraps of language still stored in her head.

“That’s pussy,” she said tenderly, nodding to Harry’s hand. “It’s an expression.”

“And you can eat it?” Harry gasped, her eyes sparkling.

“Let me show you.”

Harry stared at her a moment before nodding, before untying the edges of her towel and letting it fall to the sand. She had long legs, strong and sturdy, thinner than Louis’ and less curvy and pale like a newborn shell, and as Lou knelt in the sand and reached out to place her hands on Harry’s thighs—subtle to the touch—she noted that Harry’s legs seemed newer than the rest of her, somehow, the brown hair coating them fine and wispy and incredibly soft, and no calluses touched her knees or the soles of her toes.

Yet her beautiful legs couldn't compete with the beauty of what lie between them. Soft, thick hair trailed from Harry’s navel to end two inches past her inner thighs, curly and brown and luscious, the same hue as the locks on her head. With reverent fingers Lou stroked this silkiness, parting the curls with her thumbs to reveal bright flushed-pink skin already engorged.

Lou kissed first, just a press of her lips against the swell of Harry’s mound, and Harry rewarded her with a cry. She moved down, kissing as she went, licking out to note at which points Harry trembled against her or made desperate sounds. Soon she took Harry’s lips in hers and suckled, and that got her a small slush of wetness that pooled under her nose to run down and drip from her chin; Lou started to cry at this, big, silent, grateful tears.

Harry tasted like a cool tea on a hot summer day, quenching and sweet and with a hint of lemon and ice, the tangy ice, the kind that had been sitting forgotten in a freezer until it had nearly soured. Lou wanted to drink her up, so she did, lapping at the girl’s folds until Harry trembled so much she could no longer stand and fell with a thud to the sand, immediately lying on her back and spreading her legs once more, desperate, hungry sounds parsing from her mouth in whimpers.

Lou resumed—tears tracking past her lips to mingle their salt with Harry's taste—because how could she not? The sun now spilled out across the water, making it glisten and shimmer like a living creature, like how Harry shimmered beneath Lou’s mouth, writhing in bliss. Lou took Harry with her tongue, noting the tightness of the other girl; for someone who’d clearly never been entered, she bucked down on Lou’s tongue with a need that belied experience. When her hips started to tire Lou took Harry’s large clit between her lips and sucked it. In seconds Harry came, a cry escaping her as she shook and tensed and shook and tensed again, and Lou nursed her until Harry had spent herself five times over and Lou’s jaw dripped with her wet.

Harry panted shallowly into the sand as Lou hoisted herself up from worship and pulled the forgotten towel over Harry’s nakedness before before planting kisses on the mermaid-girl’s neck.

“Lou.” Seagulls had begun cawing to their right. “I never imagined this body could feel so—“ Harry’s voice broke and Louis heard her begin to cry, “—Beautiful.”

“You sweet thing,” Lou cooed, destroyed, “haven’t you ever done that before?”

“No, no, no… Oh Lou, you’re perfect. I love pussy, I love it so much.” And Harry clasped her in a vice-like hug, crushing Lou against her chest as she began to sob.

Lou wanted the sun to stay small, to only peak at them from around the horizon’s corner, but daybreak couldn’t be wished away, and Lou knew they must leave the beach sooner rather than later, before they could be found by morning joggers half clothed and sticky, smelling of sex and skin. Lou suggested the most obvious option.

“Come dip in the water with me, Harry. We’ll clean off a little and I’ll walk you home, okay? Come on, sweetheart.”

But Harry stilled under her, her limbs becoming all of a sudden like a rag doll, her chest going tight with held breath.

“Um…”

Lou helped her up, but as soon as she stood Harry tucked the towel back around her waist, then planted her feet and shook her head vehemently.

“I can’t.”

“What?” Confusion settled in Lou like a fog.

“I… I wish I could, oh I wish it so much.” Harry wore a horrible longing on her face, but she still smiled apologetically. “You go. I should leave. Before the h-people come.” 

Harry took off at a run in her clutched towel, not even looking back to where Lou stood in awe and disbelief, her shorts still unbuttoned and her face still dewy with shiny residue. Light flooded the beach just as Harry the Sunday mermaid disappeared into the concrete vastness of St. Petersburg.


	2. Dandelions

The week passed in microseconds, and Lou counted every one of them. After she’d hauled herself to bed for a precious few hours Monday morning, she awoke thinking the previous night had been nothing but a dream. Her muddled memories served as the glass slipper to a broken spell, and even whispering them to Niallie risked destroying their fragile existence. So Lou carried on with her week and her job and hoped that time could tick a little faster. 

She entered _The Bulkhead_ Sunday afternoon with a weight in the pit of her stomach. Upon seeing Harriet’s glimmering tail swoosh by table ten, the weight dropped to Lou’s tailbone and yanked her lungs down, suffocating her next breath. 

“You look as if you swallowed a lamprey,” Stevie observed as Lou took the stack of menus she offered. 

“Didn’t know those were edible.” Lou bit the inside of her left cheek hard, trying to sound blasé whilst fighting an onslaught of yearning.

“Well. Almost everything is edible when it comes down to it.” Stevie gave her a strange sort of once-over. “Also, Harriet asked me to give you this.”

Eagerly Lou took the slip of paper from Stevie’s hands and unfolded it, the menus banished under her arm, inconvenient, forgotten. 

“I took the liberty of folding it for her... See that you serve more than lustful glances for the remainder of the day, alright hon?” Stevie teased as she patted Lou’s arm and mercifully left her alone to read Harriet’s words.

_Lou, I need help with dandelions. There must be a trick to doing them that I can’t figure out. Please help me? You know so much about things like pussy I figure you must know about everything else. I’ll meet you outside when we’re done, okay? Harry_

Lou’s heart fibers twisted into a kitten-teased ball of yarn and she couldn’t wipe the stupid grin from her face the whole evening. Harry’s scaly tail flashed through the water faster than normal, propelling her along the restaurant walls with such speed that, though she was immersed a good twenty feet under, little waves began to peak along the tank’s surface. The lazy schools of fish that usually followed her every turn gave up after a few minutes of such a pace, and even the octopus that liked to cling around Harry’s arms couldn’t deal with the constant wind in its sails, as it were. 

The diners even noticed Harry’s apparently spunky mood, many commenting in low whispers on her incredible talent (while maintaining her legitimacy to their children, of course). One man asked Lou just how the mermaid got her tail to bend at those angles; surely human legs couldn’t become that flexible. Was the girl double jointed? Lou shrugged, honestly unsure. She hadn’t exactly been observing Harry’s joints the last time they’d met. 

Closing time finally arrived and Harry slipped from the tank as Lou wiped tables. A blush had afixed itself permanently to Lou’s cheeks, but she tried her best to hide this fact as Stevie swept the floor near her, humming. Only after Lou had upset a third salt-shaker with her rag did the older woman bark out a laugh. 

“Get out of here, will you? You’re making more mess than you’re cleaning.” 

Lou righted the shaker, only to topple the ketchup bottle next. 

“Go, Lou. I’ll finish. Wouldn’t want to keep Harriet waiting.” Stevie winked at her, the hint of a smile coming to her face. Lou didn’t trust her vocal skills, so she just nodded gratefully and hastily undid her apron as she rushed for the door. 

Though the sun had long since set, the cloudy sky maintained a little pink still, refracting the city lights only, but making the darkness softer nonetheless. Harry stood on the curb in her leggings and flip flops, her soaked t-shirt once again rendering Lou breathless. 

“Hi,” she said, twirling her dripping curls. 

“Hi,” Lou answered, noting the shy way Harry kept biting her lip and looking down to the sidewalk. 

“I, um,” she swallowed then cleared her throat, “I’m sorry I just kind of ran off.” 

Lou gave her a reassuring smile. “It’s fine, Harry. Don’t worry about it.” 

“Nicky said we had sex.”

Lou’s eyebrows drew close in confusion. “Oh?” 

“Nicky, my friend? I told her how, you know, how you kissed me there. And she said we had sex. I _do_ know that you’re not supposed to run away after having sex, I promise. I didn’t know sex could be like that, I thought you could only do it with men, because otherwise I would have stayed and told you I love you and _everything_. I really would have. I’m sorry, Lou.” 

“Oh…” Lou could only stare at Harriet open-mouthed, trying desperately to digest the words tumbling from her lips. 

“I figured if I could fix everything before I saw you again, that it would be better, you know? Which is why I tried the dandelions, which _should_ have worked but they haven’t yet. But we’ve already had sex now, and I’ve already done it all wrong. I mean, I’ve done both things all wrong now, but I only really care about this one. So.” 

Harry dropped to her knees on the sidewalk, and Lou could only think how such coarse concrete would hurt her soft skin.

“I think we have to get married now.” 

Lou stared down at the other girl’s wide, entirely honest eyes, and she would have burst out laughing but for the sincerity that shone from Harry’s face. 

“Harry, what on earth are you on about?” Lou took her hands, but Harry refused to be pulled up. 

“I know I messed everything up, but I’ll marry you too, I promise.” 

When Harry still refused to move, Lou sank to her knees as well. “Who on earth are you?” She asked in a whisper, tucking a wet curl behind Harry’s ear and trying to see answers past the green of her eyes. 

“I’m Harry, don’t you remember?” 

Lou leaned in gently and pecked her lips. “You don’t need to love me or marry me, Harry. It’s not required or anything.” 

To her surprise, Harry’s eyes welled up with tears, and a few tumbled over to her cheeks. “I know that. But I wanted to do it differently. My sister and mom they… they don’t care. They said it would be the same for me, but I _couldn’t_ not care, Lou. And then I met you and, well.”

Lou drew her into a hug and held her, Harry’s wet hair soaking her shirt too. “Why do you need to know about dandelions, Harry?” 

“Oh!” Harry pulled back and wiped her eyes, her mouth stretching into a hopeful smile. “Because they grant wishes.” 

Lou brought them both to their feet, and Harry continued. 

“I’ve seen people do it. They pick one, then blow the fluffy part away and make a wish. I tried hundreds all week, Lou, but it hasn’t worked yet. I must be doing something wrong. Do you know how?”

Lou blinked at Harry in the darkness, deciding right then that she would protect this strange, wonderous girl with every fiber of her being. 

“What is it you’re trying to wish for?” 

The mermaid girl hesitated a moment, her bright eyes staring off somewhere in the middle distance. “Freedom.” 

“Are you not free?” Lou reached up to cradle Harry’s neck.

“No.” Harry closed her eyes and leaned against Lou’s fingers, her pulse strong. She didn’t offer more, just soaked up Lou’s touch as if she’d been starved of it. 

“Dandelions can’t help you, sweetheart. Maybe I can, though?” 

“Are they not magic?” 

Lou didn’t want to break her spirit, but she couldn’t lie. “Nothing like that is magic, Harry. It’s just make-believe.”

“Is that why everyone here is so sad?” Harry’s eyes filled again, and she grabbed for Louis’ hands and held them tightly, anchoring herself against this news. 

“I don’t know.” 

Harry seemed to contemplate this a moment before pulling up the neck of her t-shirt to wipe her tears. “Nicky said you’d run away if I asked you. But you’re still here. And you kissed me again.” 

Lou squeezed her hands tighter. “Ya, I did.” 

“Nicky says she should have run away, that it would have saved her a lot of grief, but I think she’s mostly teasing me. I’m getting better at knowing when she says something and means it or when she’s saying the opposite of what she means. But I don’t say the opposite. I don’t know how yet.” 

Lou tried for a moment to understand her confessions, but settled for just securely intertwining their fingers. 

“Lou? Is there, like, a switch for turning it off?” Harry drew closer and breathed hotly against Lou’s cheek. 

“Turning what off, Harry?” Lou stepped nearer too, her chest pressing against Harry’s loose bosom. 

“Ever since you kissed me down there, whenever I think about you? I make a puddle in my clothes.” Harry bit her lower lip before continuing, her voice thick. “I feel empty, hungry, but food doesn’t fix it. Not even fruit. Yesterday? Nicky wanted to watch a movie, so we were, but I kept thinking about you, and here?” Harry touched between her legs, “It ached. So I sat on a pillow, but Nicky stopped me, said I should be alone. Lou, I don’t know what’s happening to me.” 

With barely enough presence of mind to think strait, Lou clasped Harry tightly around the waist and pulled her through the restaurant’s parking lot and into the little grove of trees that separated _The Bulkhead_ from Chase bank. 

“God, Harry, you can’t just _say_ stuff like that on a sidewalk.” Louis lunged for her mouth and Harry met her halfway, tongue out, lips wide. After several minutes of silent inhalation, Harry pulled away enough to whisper, 

“It’s aching now, Lou. What do I do?” 

“Fuck.” No one was really _around_ , per se, as midnight parking lots in St. Petersburg didn’t exactly attract robust populations. “Here,” Lou rolled up her shorts to expose her thigh and guided Harry’s hips into place, then pulled the other girl tight to her as she stiffened her leg. Harry melted, dissolving against her, groaning. 

Before Lou could advise otherwise, Harry yanked down her leggings and pressed her bare pussy against Lou’s flesh, her curly hair already sticky, her softness splitting easily to allow direct access to her pubic bone. 

“Harry, oh god,” Lou gulped, bracing herself as Harry pushed against her, humping, rubbing, squeezing. Her thigh began to cramp with the effort of keeping still, but pain didn’t matter when Harry’s arms stayed locked around her, when Harry’s face found refuge in her neck, when Harry’s hot pussy continued to smear her skin with filmy goo. 

Harry’s breath came quicker and she shuddered. “It’s not working, I’m just getting hungrier, Lou…” 

“I know, Harry, that’s—” Lou had to catch her breath from the strain of constant tension, “That’s how it works. It’s almost over now.” 

“It is?” Harry groaned and pressed in so hard that Lou nearly feel backwards. 

“Trust me.” 

When Harry began to tremble and her muscles spasmed, Lou angled her thigh in sharper. Harry clung to her deftly, making the most inhuman sounds, until her muscles slackened and her sopping pussy slid downwards, easing its own passage along Lou’s leg like a regal sea-snail. In the dim, ambient light Lou glimpsed her own bright-red thigh, shiny and hot.

“Come home with me,” Lou whispered, out of breath, undone. “Let me show you everything. Let me take care of you.” She pulled Harry’s leggings back up over her hips, making sure not to snap the elastic. 

Harry swallowed and giggled. “Like marriage?” 

“Sure.” Lou had never been more sure of anything in her life. “Marriage sounds perfect.” 

*

The walk to Niallie’s house was slow and wonderful, the midnight air hiding all the girls’ flitting giggles and warm kisses and the two times that Harry had guided Lou’s hand underneath her waistband asking to be ‘wiped clean.’ When Lou finally managed to get Harry inside Niallie’s tiny spare room (finally, because Harry kept googling over the apartment furnishings) she felt both insanely alert and incredibly sleepy. And a whole lot of sweaty and sticky and hot.

“Wanna come clean up with me?” Lou asked as Harry flopped down on the tiny twin bed. 

“Anything with you,” Harry giggled, face rosey and soft.

“How about a cool shower, hmm?” Lou began to tug on Harry’s shirt, now crinkly from the drying wind, but Harry pulled back. 

“Oh. Um. I can’t take showers.” 

Lou stared at her, bewildered, so Harry offered more. 

“I only take baths.” 

“We can take a bath, that’s okay Harry,” Lou tried to reassure her, but Harry brought her fingers to her lips and began to gnaw on her thumbnail. 

“I can’t.”

Lou was too tired to fully understand the tingly feeling that settled in her stomach, the sense that this confession bore more weight than a simple preference or phobia. But she grasped that whatever made Harry nervous and wary must be a very real fear for her, so thinking quickly, Lou offered, “How about we just wipe off then? No showers.”

Harry looked up at her as if she’d been offered the moon. “You don’t mind?” 

“Of course not, baby.” 

The pet name slipped out too easily, and Lou tensed at her inadvertent intimacy for a moment before Harry’s smile revealed her dimples. Lou guided Harry towards the small bathroom where she set about wetting two washcloths and rubbing in a bit of her bar soap. Harry undressed quickly.

“Ready,” Harry announced, spreading her feet apart and holding her arms out, and Lou nearly crumpled from adoration. She made to begin at Harry’s shoulders, but the other girl grabbed the washcloth and wrung it out quickly over the sink. She handed it back to Lou, damp but not at all dripping. 

“Sorry. _Now_ I’m ready.” 

Trying to be nonplussed, Lou set about washing Harry’s delicate skin. Her breasts pebbled as Lou grazed over them with the cloth, and she couldn’t resist leaning in and kissing each of Harry’s large, flushed nipples, even if they did taste slightly like soap. She continued down, only too aware of how Harry spread open for her hand, how her lips were still used and tender from their previous activities. Once again Lou noted the perfection of Harry’s legs, how the skin there held not even a slight blemish, how her toenails were soft and thin, like a newborn babes’...

When she’d finished and begun to wipe Harry with a freshly rinsed (and rung) cloth, Harry started pulling at Lou’s clothes, eager. 

“Now you,” she said, talking the coth from Lou and lathering it up once again. She didn’t wring it out overly much, though, and drops of water slid down Lou’s bare chest to collect in her navel. 

Harry took in everything as she worked, her eyes traveling from one part of Lou’s body to the next, as if she followed an invisible, intricately marked maze. Lou had never been particularly self conscious about her body, but if she had, Harry would have cured her, for her whole face shone in rapture as she wiped over Lou’s doughy breasts, her soft tummy, her round thighs, her ample bum. When Harry slid the cloth between her legs, Lou shivered, the coolness contrasting with how hotly she burned. 

Lou dried them both off with a fluffy towel and, without a thought to their discarded clothes, led Harry back to her bed. 

“When do we get married, Lou?” Harry whispered as she cuddled close, her skin so incredibly warm. 

“That can wait til morning, I think,” Lou answered, her eyelids heavy, weighted, sluggish, barely letting her see how Harry grinned as she nestled a leg between Lou’s thighs and sighed before yawning,

“Alright, Lou we’ll get married in the morning.” 

*

They didn’t, of course. Lou spent the morning making Harry eggs and toast-with-jam and explaining why, exactly, life didn’t follow the plot of chick flicks. It took a few glasses of orange juice before Harry seemed to grasp this reality. Niallie, trying valiantly to keep out of things in the living room, finally succumbed to her nature and pulled up a stool, poised to deliver her valued advice. 

“But if you watch the movies, and they make you happy, then why wouldn’t you do your life like the movies? Wouldn’t that make you happy too?” Harry had gotten jam around her mouth, and Lou desperately wanted to lick it off, but Naillie seemed on her last straw as it was. 

“Movies are fiction, they’re just stories we tell because stories make us feel better.” 

“But. Wouldn’t your life feel better if it was like the stories?” 

Lou tried not to choke on her bite of egg as Niallie threw up her arms in exasperation. “People are messy! No one can make their life end up like a story, even if they wanted to, don’t you understand? No one’s in control of how their life turns out, shit happens all the time.” 

Harry’s face settled into a worried frown. “Oh. So you’re not free, either?” 

Niallie looked at Harry like she’d questioned gravity, but Lou understood the reference. She went to the mermaid girl and folded her in a gentle hug. “Fate kind of controls everyone’s lives, Harry.”

“I thought,” Harry shook her head, ridding herself of that clinging fallacy, “That things were different here. But the dandelions weren’t true either.” 

Niallie gave Lou a _stare_ and stood abruptly, inclining her head to the side in that disapproving way she had before disappearing back into the living room. 

“Harry,” Lou began slowly, not wanting to startle her, “When you say ‘here,’ what do you mean?” 

Harry seemed to think about this for a moment before answering. “I mean here in St. Petersburg. Where I have never been before.” 

“Ah.” Lou thought her answer sounded rather rehearsed, but she let it go. Clearly she would get no answers from Harry this morning. “Well, er, I actually have to be at work by ten so… do you want to walk with me? Or I can walk you home.” 

“I’ll walk with you.” Harry dimpled as Lou kissed her cheek and cleared away her plate. 

“I only have the one umbrella, but it doesn’t look like the rain should last long.” 

_crash_

Lou whirled around to see that Harry had dropped her glass of orange juice on the floor, her face having gone horribly pale as she stared out the window at the steady rain that she’d clearly not noticed before. 

“Harry? Baby?” Lou stepped around the shattered glass to take Harry into her arms, but Harry didn’t meld to her easily; her whole torso had gone stiff. 

“I… I can’t walk with you, Lou,” she whispered, her eyes fixed on the countertop. 

“What?” 

“I… I…” Harry seemed desperate to recall something, for she pulled on her curls and began to bite her lip, “Can I use your phone?” 

“Oh.” Lou pulled her cell from her back pocket, unsure of what to think. “Of course.” She unlocked the device and handed it to Harry, who labored over the six digit number she ploddingly typed in. As the phone rang, she wouldn’t meet Lou’s eyes. 

“Hello?” A voice on the other end answered, a woman’s voice, short and bright and a bit terse. 

“Nicky? It’s me.” 

“Where the _fuck_ are you Harriet, I’ve been worried sick all fucking night!” 

“I’m… I’m with Lou.” 

“You’re with Lou. Okay. _Wonderful_. We’ve discussed this.” 

“Ya.”

“We discussed how this was a _bad idea_.” 

“I… I can’t, um. Walk. With her.” 

Lou shouldn’t have stayed close enough to listen in, but now she couldn’t step away. 

“Explain?” 

“It’s, um, raining.” 

“Harriet, what if I was booked all day? What if I couldn’t drive over and bail your ass out _yet again_? Shit, you’re so infuriating. What’s the address?” 

Helplessly Harry turned to Lou, her eyes big and apologetic and, Lou observed with a clenching of her gut, _scared_. Without hesitation Lou took her phone back and spoke into the receiver, “It’s 2108 Chestnut Lane. And don’t talk to her like that.” 

The voice on the other end audibly gasped. “Oh, and who is this?”

“Who do you think, dickhead.” 

A spot of color came back to Harry’s face and she nearly cracked a smile. 

“I assume you’re Lou. Do me a favor and don’t dump Harriet in a swimming pool before I get there, please?” 

“Of course. But careful, I might dump _you_ in one with that tone.” 

“More’s the relief, honestly… I’ll be there in ten. Tell her to wait inside.” And the line clicked dead. 

“She’s not so bad, really,” Harry offered, taking Lou’s twitching hand. 

“If you wanted me to drive you home, I’d have borrowed Niallie’s car. You could have just asked.” Lou couldn’t help being a bit hurt. Harry hung her head, and Lou felt rotten. “Baby? It doesn’t matter. I shouldn’t care.” Lou kissed her neck and played with her curls. 

But despite Lou’s tender touches and hugs and sugary pecks, Harry stayed limp and morose, her eyes filming over with unshed tears. Lou tried to cheer her up, but no whispered affection would change Harry’s mood. Soon the doorbell rang, and Lou heard Niallie answer it. Moments later a wiry, angled woman with an impressive coif of hair wearing a button down hawaiian shirt and canvas shorts and oversized flip flops (complete with several shiny ankle bracelets) descended on Niallie’s kitchen. 

“You’re Lou then, I take it?” The woman planted her hands on her hips and looked Lou up and down with a raised eyebrow. It took all Lou’s self control not to explode at her next words. “Well at least you found a hot one to pop your cherry, Harriet. With your taste, I’m surprised she’s not a walrus.” 

Harry jumped to her feet and turned on her friend. “Don’t say that.” 

Lou instinctively came to Harry’s side and took her hand, but no sooner had she done so than Nicky physically grabbed her shoulders and walked her backwards, pinning her against the sink. Lou could have struggled, could have thrown the other woman to the ground, but she was too shocked to think of anything like that, especially when Nicky began to speak.

“Don’t. You’re already attached to her, I can see it. She’s not available. Don’t care about her, don’t fall in love with her, don’t try and protect her. She was just looking for a good fuck, alright? That’s all she wanted, and now you’re going to forget about her, alright?” 

Lou’s heart burned inside of her as she finally threw off the other woman’s arms. “The _fuck_ do you think you’re doing?” 

“I’m protecting my friend. And I’ll do a lot worse. So just you remember that.” 

Nicky went back to a wilted looking Harry, took her hand, and pulled her towards the door. Lou followed, stunned, her head a muddle, and vaguely registered Niallie (bless her) poised by the couch with a cat toy held securely in her grip. When they reached the door and Nicky pulled it open to reveal the pouring rain, she asked Harry, “Did you just wear your flip flops?”

Harry nodded. Propping the screen open as she undid her umbrella, Nicky made a clucking noise and shook her head. “Good thing leg day was yesterday. Up you come, pet.” 

Lou and Niallie watched as Harry climbed onto the other woman’s back and linked her limbs securely around Nicky’s body. Nicky then stepped out the door, brandishing her umbrella against the storm, and scurried to her waiting car, opening the passenger door and carefully slipping Harry inside, guarding her against the rain all the while. When she’d taken her own seat and begun to drive away, Niallie came up behind Lou and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. 

“I know you don’t want to hear this right now, Lou, but I think you dodged a bullet, honestly.”

Lou sniffed, determined not to cry, determined not to break into a million little pieces. 

“I should have done it.” 

Niallie closed the door and bolted it as the rain came down just a little harder. “Done what?”

“Married her this morning.”


	3. Mediums and Popsicles

Lou let herself wallow in misery the entire week, unwilling to cheer up even when Niallie brought her a bouquet of flowers from the local CVS (they were just carnations) or when Stevie took over two of her shifts, insisting she go do something ‘fun’ and ‘shake off her funk.’ But what could possibly be fun? What could possibly compare to Harry’s lovely mouth, her desperate embrace, her needy passion? _She was just looking for a good fuck_. Not true. It couldn’t be true. Lou wouldn’t believe it, no matter how many times Niallie offered her two cents about strange Florida cults and deranged religious groups she’d seen profiled in the local paper. 

Yet when Sunday came, Harry clearly avoided her. She swam near the back of the tank, coming forwards only to delight tables of small children who pressed their sticky hands and faces to the glass and squealed with delight; Harry put on a show for them, not for Lou. She didn’t follow Lou from table to table, didn’t stare at her through three inches of melted sand. 

When the last customer left, Lou prepared to beg Stevie for Harry’s pay, desperate to have an excuse to see the mermaid girl in person; her please weren’t necessary, as Stevie immediately recognized the panicked need etched on her face and handed her the envelope, shooing her along with a reassuring smile. 

Lou nearly smacked into a running Harry as she rounded the corner of the kitchens. The mermaid girl sidestepped just in time, but then tumbled to the floor, her legs getting tangled on some invisible hindrance. 

“Harry? Shit, you okay?” Lou immediately reached down to pull her up. 

“Ow.” Harry didn’t budge, though Lou tugged hard. “I hate tailbones.” 

“Can you not stand? Gosh I didn’t mean… why were you running?” Lou swallowed, her heart aching when Harry hung her head, refusing to meet her eyes. “Were you running from me?” 

Two sniffs later Harry’s mass of dripping curls bobbed in a nod. Lou sank to her knees, Harry’s hands still loosely clutched in her own. She didn’t say anything. She couldn’t. 

“I got a little stupid, Lou. You made me believe it could be true and I... I watched all those movies and saw the stores and the furniture and the flowers and I just… I thought this place could lose me.”

Lou tried to blink away the moisture under her eyelids. “Furniture?” 

“Couches are so romantic, don’t you think? Sitting, I mean? But Nicky’s right, Lou. I can’t risk it. I shouldn’t. It’s not fair to you, it really isn’t, and you’d never love me.” Harry looked up then, finally. “You wouldn’t, not if you knew.” 

Lou nearly bit through her lip in frustration. “That’s nonsense, Harry, fuck, I _already_ \--” 

“No you _can’t_ , you can’t.” Harry scrambled to her feet, tottering unsteadily for a second before pulling her hands from Lou’s grasp and hurrying towards the back door. “I have to go, I’m sorry,” Harry called, her flip flops clacking on the floor behind her like wooden spoons, the kind of spoons Lou’s grandmother would use to stir up cakes, the kind she would smack smack smack against the batter bowl until every last drop of mixture fell back in. And _smack smack smack_ Lou’s hopes now dripped off the same way, their sweetness forgotten as she hugged her knees to her chest and bit her arm to keep from sobbing. 

She didn’t realize until bedtime that Harry’s payment remained in her shorts’ pocket. 

*

Niallie had been right. Not about the dodged bullet, as that remained to be seen, but about having seen Nicky somewhere before. The somewhere was a billboard near the off-ramp to exit 13a that read, _Medium At Large: We Meet Your Psychic Needs_. Alongside these words Nicky’s face looked sterny out, her eyes dramatically strait on, her slightly crooked nose pinched thinner as she strove to suck in the little bit of softness around her cheekbones. Lou turned left, the rhythm of the car’s blinker much steadier than her heart. 

She had told Niallie that Harry needed the money urgently, and though Niallie had easily seen through her pretence, she’d lent Lou her car anyway, urging her to at keep her temper and to please, for the love of everything, not spill any milkshakes on the seats. (This had _only_ happened once, when they were in high school no less, but Niallie had an annoyingly perfect memory.)

Nicky’s place of business sat on a motley street corner between the pier and a little strip mall containing a pay-day-loan store, a jewelry exchange, and a tattered Rite Aid. The front had been painted black and studded with silver stars, and as Lou opened the door to walk in, a string of little bells jangled over her head. A think plume of incense immediately hit her in the face and she blinked and coughed as she heard a clipped voice call out, “Be right with you!”

When she’d managed to fan some of the cloying smoke from her eyes, Lou could see zodiac posters along the walls and long swatches of red and black fabric that hung in no particular arrangement, rather just swooping to cover bare areas the posters did not. The carpet beneath her feet felt like moss, dense and springy, probably thick with trappings of settled smoke. 

“I’ve been expecting you, my friend, we—” Nicky stopped short and snorted, her mouth falling open. “Oh it’s _you_.” 

“So just to be clear, you’re _not_ psychic.” Lou couldn’t help the edge to her tone as she eyed the other woman up and down, taking in her drastic difference of appearance. Nicky wore a long lace gown and so many beads that she sounded like bag of marbles with every movement. A hat of black fur completed her look, adorned with gaudy jewels, the kind from the craft section at Walmart. It seemed they were afixed with superglue. 

“Mirrors _and_ crystal balls don’t show vampires,” Nicky mumbled, crossing her arms. “I assume you’re here about Harriet?” 

“Such insight, I’m impressed.” Lou produced the envelope from her shorts’ pocket. “She left her pay.” 

“I see.” Nicky held out her hand. “Well I’ll pass it along. No need for you to wait around.” 

“I’m not sure I trust you, see,” Lou voiced, keeping a firm grip on her delivery, trying very hard to disguise the yearning in her voice. 

“Trust me or don’t trust me, either way you’re not seeing Harriet, if that’s your end goal.” 

Lou’s mouth fell open and she glared incredulously despite her vow to remain calm and cool. “And why’s that? Are you holding her hostage or something? Is this a cult—thing? Are you—” Lou wanted to smack Niallie for putting it in her head, “Baptists?” 

This time _Nicky’s_ mouth fell open. Her look of surprise contrasted ironically with her fortune teller’s get-up. “Me? You think I’ve got her tied up in my gingerbread house, do you?” Nicky rolled her eyes and pulled out a cigarette from her lace pocket. “Isn’t that just perfect, not only do I have to be mother, but I get cast as the Disney villain too. Honestly, the _day_ that disaster of a girl walked in here I should have turned her right around and dumped her back at the fucking pier.” Nicky took a long pull and exhaled directly in Lou’s face. 

“Too bad there was no way for you to _foresee_ that.” 

“Oh fuck you,” Nicky waved her arm dismissively as she took a seat behind a heavily draped table. “Well sit down, I’m not letting you waste my time without paying for it.” 

“You’re kidding.” 

“Do you think anyone else has walked in here today? No. It’s fifty upfront, no personal checks.” 

“I’m not paying you to tell my fortune.” 

“Then you’re sure not seeing Harriet either, are you?” 

Not sure what other course of action remained available to her, Lou did as instructed. She only had forty-three dollars in her wallet, but Nicky didn’t count it. The medium reached out and grabbed her right hand, flipping it palm up and gently holding it down against the table as she began to trace the lines there with her fingertips. Lou felt tingles, rather unpleasant ones, run up her spin, like being tickled with no happiness.

“Life line, heart line, blah blah… sadness, joy, new life… true love, probably impulsive, no sense of boundaries—”

“Hey…”

“—Given to dramatics and staged expressions of bravado—”

“You’re making this up.” 

“—Stubborn, bad temper, terrible cook—”

Lou yanked her hand back, glaring. “Are you a complete charlatan or do you at least try with your customers?”

“Complete is rather harsh, I’d say it’s a solid twenty-eighty on a typical day.” Nicky leaned back in her chair and fixed Lou with a taunting smile. “Now give it back, I haven’t finished.” 

Lou replaced her hand, her lips pursed. 

“A linked line here, bit of a chain I suppose, but…” Nicky’s voice trailed off and her eyebrows furrowed. When she spoke again her tone had changed. “You’ve got no business having this pathway.” 

Lou got goose-pimples on her arm. “ _Pardon?_

“Like, seriously. Did I deserve this?” Nicky looked up at the ceiling, at the yellowed fluorescent lights that hadn’t been cleaned in an age of the earth. “Haven’t I _decently_ cheated people? Did this need to be dumped in my lap? Honestly my gifts are wasted on the undeserving.” 

Nicky stood in a flurry of lace and huffed at Lou before motioning her to follow. 

“Well don’t just stand there, Harriet’s in her room.” 

The back of the storefront served as Nicky’s house, and as soon as they’d exited the far door, Lou found herself in a wallpapered hallway complete with hanging family photos and a coat rack and an old woven rug. Nicky deposited her at the second room on the left, muttering, “She’s been moping horrendously since the rainstorm. Go ahead, go in, see if I care! You’ve suddenly got ‘fate’ on your side now, who am I to stand between her and danger? Nevermind if it means my own early grave, right? No one gives a flying fuck about that.” Nicky rapped on the door rather harshly. “Harriet, you have a visitor.” 

Nicky turned on her heel and left—the lace of her dress swishing like starched ocean waves—and the door creaked open. 

“Nicky what—” 

Harry’s lips froze on that word as her sleep-heavy green eyes saw Lou. 

“Hi.” Lou wanted to scoop her up, kiss away the worry lines on her forehead. “You, um, forgot your pay.” 

Harry took the proffered envelope from Lou’s hand and tried out a smile. “Thanks.” She made to close the door again.

“Wait, please,” Lou braced herself against the wood frame, “Please let me talk to you.” 

The mermaid girl gave no answer, but stepped aside enough for Lou to enter. Though the sun shone brightly outside, Harry’s curtains remained drawn, giving the room an odd, yellow glow, as if it were a cell of honeycomb and the walls might be edible, sweet.

Harry curled back up in her extremely rumpled bed, burying her face in a heap of pink sheets that she seemed to be using as a pillow. 

“I wish I were a flower,” she whispered when Lou came to sit beside her. “They like the sun bare, don’t they? It doesn’t burn them or make them dry, does it? Nicky says there’s one flower that follows the sun with its face all day, looking right up at it the whole time. Is that true, Lou?” 

“I think she means a sunflower. Ya, that’s true.” Lou sighed, her heart heavy. 

“I want to see one.” Slowly, as if hoping for permission, Harry scooted to lay her head against Lou’s lap. Of course Lou welcomed her, began to comb through her curls, smooth against her cheek. 

“I know there’s a secret, Harry.” 

The mermaid girl blinked, but didn’t move. 

“I’ve decided I don’t care.” 

At this Harry pushed up, the heels of her palms sinking into the mattress, denting it, pinning the surrounding sheets down in gathers. 

“But you don’t know what you don’t care about.” 

“That’s… yes, exactly, Harry.” Lou smiled at her. “If you can’t tell me then… well, it is what it is. I want to be in your life. I want to see you. I want to kiss you.” 

Harry blushed and ducked her head. “It would be selfish for me to say yes. That kinda sounds like what you call clams and oysters, doesn’t it? ” 

Lou’s heart stuttered in adoration. “Selfish shellfish…” She licked out to whet her lips as she cupped Harry’s jaw and drew her close. “Why would it be selfish?”

“You could get hurt, Lou. Very hurt.” 

“Not more hurt than if you send me away.” Lou whispered this, nervous to say the words even though she meant them so deeply that her blood bubbled at their intonation. “You’ll break my heart if you make me leave, Harry.” 

In an instant Harry closed the gap between their mouths and crawled astride Lou’s lap, her gangly limbs toppling them both over on the bed. The pink sheets smelled of Harry and seawater, and the scent alternately burned Lou’s nose and soothed it. 

“Mine is forming back together, now,” Harry rushed out during a breath, “I could feel it in pieces before, one piece was in my stomach, the other in my throat, one in the back of my eyes...” Harry’s voice audibly snagged on a sob. “But you fix me.” 

Lou closed her eyes, trying to hold in a rush of tears. “Baby… sweetheart.” 

“I want to grow into something beautiful under this sun. It’s so warm and close, and it touches you like a bit of fire, doesn’t it? Like the candles on the childrens’ birthday cakes at work. But I can’t without you, Lou. You’re my earth. Nicky says all flowers have to have a bit of earth, to hold them down, so they don’t float away with the rain. I’ll float away, Lou, if you don’t keep me. I want to be kept. I want you to keep me.” 

A surge of warmth spread through Lou’s veins. “Of course, sweetheart.”

“I want to touch dancing with my toes, Lou. Can you show me how? Can you show me how dresses work? And the colors that Nicky puts on her face? And can you take me to see the things that you put in rooms? Books, chairs, tables, rugs, lights—so many lights, shiny ones that hang like diamonds? You must know all the best parts of the world, Lou, because you know _everything_ don’t you? Like pussy.” 

Overwhelmed, Lou pulled Harry tight to her, spooning the taller girl securely. She kissed behind Harry’s ear before promising, “Yes I’ll show you, baby. I’ll show you the whole world.” 

*

They following day passed in a blur of aniticipation. Lou hadn’t cuddled more than an hour with Harry before Nicky had rousted them out into her living room, ranting on about how she needed time to prepare, to take precautions. Lou had been in no mood to ignore her strange conditions, being as they seemed the only way to keep seeing Harry, so she’d left for the evening, giving the mermaid girl a light kiss on her cheek and getting to enjoy the strawberry blush that it caused. 

Harry was due to meet her after work, and Lou’s shift ended at three. Approximately two seconds after the clock struck, Lou flung her apron away and dashed out the door, nearly tripping on Stevie as she sidestepped a piled cluster of chairs.   
“I’m here,” Harry greeted as soon as Lou exited into the blinding sunshine. Harry stood twirling a bright rainbow umbrella above her. “Nicky said I looked weird, but I didn’t think you’d care.” 

“Of course I don’t care, Harry…” Lou took in the sight of her again. Harry wore yellow rain boots that came nearly to her knees, a see-through plastic poncho over her customary leggings and t-shirt, and of course completed her look with the umbrella. “Is it, um, supposed to rain later?” Lou ventured.

“It might. There’s always the potential, you know. It comes from _clouds_. I honestly never paid them any attention before, but now I realize they’re quite important.” 

Lou stepped under Harry’s self-made shade and took her hand. “Extremely important. It’s good to be prepared for such, uh, things.” 

“That’s what Nicky said,” Harry beamed, “And? And guess what. The sun doesn’t hurt under here either! Where are we going, Lou?” 

Lou did have a plan. A rather cheesy one, perhaps, but a plan nonetheless. She leaned in to peck Harry’s lips. “We are going flower shopping.” 

The pop up flower markets of Florida looked much the same as those back home, Lou noted. They smelled like fertilizer and crushed petals and dripping hoses, their white tent canopies outfitted with dirty fans that at least mercifully blew most of the bugs away. Every type of flower and leafy plant imaginable sat on endless wire racks, divvied out into plastic pots with four or eight or sixteen different cups. Large baskets hung from metal rods, their contents headless of brims, swinging slightly in the wind of the fans, whipping water droplets to and fro across the pavement to create oblong puddles.

Harry took all this in greedily, as if she’d never seen so many blooms before. Perhaps she hadn’t. Once they were under the tenting, Lou offered to hold her umbrella and she accepted, eagerly hurrying to examine and pet each plant with free hands. She liked to stroke the leaves first, then the petals themselves, murmuring half to Lou, half to herself about which ones felt softest, which ones seemed thickest, which ones were delicate as spiderwebs. 

When Harry had made it down an entire row, Lou brought up her notable disregard for her fourth sense. “Aren’t you going to see which ones smell best, too?” Lou prompted. 

Harry whirled so quickly she nearly slipped in a puddle. “They _smell_?” 

“‘Course they smell. All flowers have _some_ fragrance.”

“They do?” Harry bent towards the closet pot of fuschias and stuck her whole face in its blossoms. “They do!” She pulled back, a soppy grin on her face, her cheeks wet with the plant’s droplets, two petals and a yellowed leaf stuck to her forehead. 

“You’re gonna love roses,” Lou sighed as she wiped Harry’s face clean with her fingers, tucking a stray curl behind the girl’s ear when she’d finished. 

“Is that a rose?” Harry pointed to a flat of begonias, ranging in color from bright yellow to red, their layered blooms loose and frilly, twisted in curls. 

“Close, but no.” 

“Look, Lou,” Harry bent and picked up two fallen blossoms, “Why have they left them here on the ground?” She carefully stuck each flower back in the dirt, then moved on to the next discarded bloom. Lou crouched and picked them up with her, but stopped Harry putting them back in the flats. 

“They’ve just fallen off, sweetheart, see? They’re old ones, that’s what happens. They won’t grow again.”

“Oh.” Harry looked pityingly at her handful, disregarding the almost ugly transparency of some petals and the dying brown that had started to creep in along their edges. “What happens to them?”

“They get swept up and thrown away, I suppose,” Lou answered, not prepared for the look of horror that crossed Harry’s face at her words. 

“Thrown away? They’re too beautiful for that. Can we save them all, Lou? Please?” Harry bit her lower lip—pink, perfect, utterly unfair—and Lou’s heart gave a massive flutter. 

“I… I suppose so…” 

“Let’s put them all here, okay?” Harry held out her poncho like an apron and dumped her handful in. Lou followed suit. 

For the next ten minutes they combed the market for fallen blossoms, checking under the wire racks, in the tent corners (where the fan’s breeze had clustered many), and inside the empty shopping carts. By the time they’d finished Harry’s poncho dipped heavily and they had attracted the attention of at least five shoppers and one very confused employee. But none of that mattered to Lou in light of Harry’s radiant grin. She didn’t care if people stared. 

“What can we do with them, Lou?” Harry asked as they walked from the flower market in search of popsicles. 

“Dunno, it’s up to you, babe. You can put them in some water when you get home, and they may last a few days. Or,” Lou reached down and grabbed two flowers with long-ish stems, “We could make daisy chains.” 

“Daisy chains?” 

Lou guided Harry into line at a little snack stand. “I used to make them when I was little, with my sisters,” Lou explained, tying the stems together. “You link them up and wear them.” 

“Okay,” Harry giggled, her eyes fixated on the tiny knot Lou had formed. 

“What’s it for you ladies?” 

“Oh, uh,” Lou had nearly forgotten they were in line. “Two popsicles, I’ll have purple, and Harry? What color do you want?” 

“They have _colors_?” 

“Orange, green, purple, pink, or blue,” the stand man rattled off hurriedly. 

“Um.” Harry thought a good moment. “Orange.” 

Lou flipped open her wallet and paid as Harry held the umbrella with one hand and took the two treats with her other. When they’d walked a little distance away, inadvertently getting closer to the beach, Harry handed Lou the purple popsicle. 

“Wanna go sit in the sand, babe?” Lou asked. Harry nodded, and they made their way across the tiny dunes, walking down only a small stretch of beach before Harry planted her feet and sat down. Lou sat with her, sticking the umbrella in the hot earth and wiggling it around until it provided them hands-free shade. 

“I didn’t mean to look but, um,” Harry kissed at her popsicle, “Your card, in your wallet? Is says Louanna. Isn’t Lou your real name?” 

Lou sputtered around her purple mouthful, amused. “Lou is just a nickname, I suppose. Louanna is the full thing. Like, you know, how your name is Harriet but you go by Harry.” 

Orange had started to stain the peach fuzz above Harry’s lip. “Oh. I thought…” she hesitated and took a very long suck on her ice-stick, “Maybe someone owned your old name. So you changed it.” 

Lou lowered her popsicle and met Harry’s eyes. The mermaid girl continued. 

“That’s why I changed mine. I’ve only told you the new one, nobody else. I wanted to be someone different in my own head. And with you.” 

The profound simplicity of Harry’s words scratched at a scab on Lou’s heart and she felt it open, weeping puss and blood and hurt, and she realized that she’d done much the same as Harry without even knowing. She scooted closer to the other girl until their thighs touched. 

“Someone did kind of own my old name, ya. A friend of mine.”

“Was she terrible?” 

“No, no, nothing like that.” Dribbles of purple had begun to stain Lou’s fingers, coursing under her nails like leaked ink. “She was my oldest friend. My _only_ friend for a long time, actually. She’s married now, lives far away.” Lou left the rest unsaid, but her face hid nothing. Harry planted a sticky, fanta-colored kiss on her shoulder. 

“I love the people who own my old name too, don’t worry. My sister is my best friend and my mom is… is everything. But.” Harry took another suck of her popsicle, then withdrew it and looked intently at its shrinking form, now tapering to a sharp point. “Lou, is it true that pussies were made to have sex with men?” 

Lou nearly bit off her purple tip. “What? Of—no, no of course not, babe. Who told you that?” 

“They did.” Harry twirled her frozen treat slowly, clearly fully aware of the innuendos it represented. “They said it’s ‘natural.’ I told them it didn’t feel natural to me, but they wouldn’t listen. They said that’s the way biology works, the way nature works. If I don’t want it then I’m weird. I’m broken.” 

Not caring in the least, Lou tossed her popsicle aside, her hands coming up to cup Harry’s face. “You are _not_ broken. You’re _not_. Never think that again, Harry, please. There’s nothing wrong, nothing unnatural about you, about us. Your family is so, so mistaken.” 

“But—” Harry didn’t get out her protest before Lou kissed her, their purple and orange mouths merging into a muddy brown. 

Several minutes later Lou finally pulled away, surprised to find Harry’s eyelashes wet with tears. 

“Babe?”

“But then why do I like it when you push inside me, Lou?” She brandished her half-melted popsicle. “Doesn’t that mean I should want… _that_?” 

A chuckle escaped Lou’s lips; she couldn’t help herself. “Oh baby. No, that’s not what it means at all. It means that my fingers, my tongue, are making you feel good. There are all kinds of toys and, er, things to use besides just those, you know. So many lovely things to make you feel good. And not one of them involving men.” 

Turning chartreuse, Harry smiled as she bit down on the orange ice-form, cutting it in half. She chewed gleefully, blinking against a sudden brain freeze, her eyes shining in unsuppressed happiness. When she’d finished, before she could wipe her sticky fingers on her shirt, Lou caught her hands and popped each of Harry’s digits in her mouth, licking them clean. Harry watched this with blown eyes, unblinking. 

“You’ve made me wet, Lou,” Harry whispered in her ear, shifting in the sand. 

“Ya?” Lou didn’t recognize her own voice.

“I want you to fill me up, but you can’t here. Can we go home?” Harry said, swallowing loudly. 

“Fuck.” Lou leaned in and kissed her quickly once more. “It’s a bit of a walk from here, but ya, absolutely, lets go right now.” 

Lou had to squeeze her thighs together every few seconds as they journeyed back, otherwise she would have needed to reach down and give herself some type of relief. By the time they finally made it to Naillie’s place, they were both sweaty and out of breath and hot, too hot. Lou guided Harry to her room, thankful that the house seemed empty. She helped Harry take off first her flower-laden poncho, then her rain boots. 

They fell to the bed, already hungrily messing at each other’s mouths. The mattress creaked with their movements, and Lou could _smell_ Harry, smell her wetness, her sweat, her hot fanta breath, the damp between her breasts that welcomed Lou like candied plums. 

“Lou…” Harry pressed up to her thigh, trembling, eager as her fingers edged up underneath Lou’s shirt and stroked along the soft pudge of her tummy. As Harry’s exploration ventured higher, Lou stretched off her bra. Harry appreciated this, letting out a hum, cupping her whole palm around Lou’s left breast. Lou couldn’t stand it, she had to see, so she yanked her shirt up too and pulled until she’d drawn it over her head. Her nipples hardened, bare in the cool air, as Harry looked hungrily at them in the dusty sunlight. 

“I love them,” she declared, her nose-breaths tickling the fuzz around Lou’s areolas. As if in slow motion Harry latched her mouth on and sucked, her cheeks pulling in, her eyes closed. The heat and the wet of her made Lou shiver, and when Harry began looping her tongue in nipple-sized circles, Lou couldn’t help groaning. 

The universe could have re-formed from dust and Lou wouldn’t have noticed. Harry switched off between her breasts until Lou’s panties were totally wrecked, her pulse so strong in her lower belly that she honestly wondered if her heart had dislodged and dropped there. 

“When will you feed me?” Harry murmured after a while, her swollen lips making her smile all the more ruining. 

“Mmmm?” Lou questioned, unsure what she meant. 

“Where’s your milk, Lou?” 

_Oh_. “We’ll have to pretend that part, baby.” 

“Why?” 

“Well, I mean, because…” 

“Are you out, Lou? You can have mine, if you want.” Harry yanked off her top in one quick motion, her chest already bra-less underneath. Her boobs weren’t overly big, but they looked more dense than Lou’s, standing out from her chest with roundness from all sides while her nipples perked upwards. 

“Here,” Harry cupped her right breast and offered. Thinking it some type of kink, Lou happily accepted, drawing Harry’s soft skin, the dark of her nipple, against her teeth, sucking it into her mouth.

Without warning a little drop of sweetness landed on Lou’s tongue. In shock, she let go and stared up at Harry, confused. 

“What’s wrong?” The mermaid girl asked, her face worried. 

“N-nothing, nothing baby,” Lou hurried out, unable to rectify reality with what she’d just experienced. 

“Who kissed all your milk away, Lou?” Harry asked as she pet down Lou’s ribs delicately. 

“No one. I don’t have any.” 

“Why?” 

Lou’s head was muddled by her desire, by the day, by Harry’s very presence. She heard her words, yet they didn’t seem to make any sense. “Well… _normally_ you only have milk when you have a baby, sweetheart.”

Harry blinked, then went very still, her eyes staring at Lou’s softly rising chest. 

“Harry? You okay?” 

“Just thinking.” 

“Penny for your thoughts?” 

“YES!” Harry squealed in glee, throwing her arms around Lou’s neck and drawing her in again. “I’ve heard that one! It’s one of my top ten favorites. If I had pennies I would give them to everyone I met.” 

Lou put lactation from her mind. Stranger things had happened, after all. She kissed at Harry’s jaw and down her neck, melting at the way Harry giggled. She was ticklish, it seemed. Soon Harry shimmied down her leggings. 

“Lou?” 

“Mmm?” 

Harry took her hand and guided it downwards. Wasting no time, Lou began touching, rubbing gently, finally slipping a finger inside of her, reveling in the obscene way Harry’s pussy squelched with wet, in awe of the way it made her blood buzz, her head spin. 

“I like you in me,” Harry murmured, her voice reedy, high, dazed. “It feels… like, you know seashells, Lou?” 

She slipped a second finger alongside the first and Harry rolled into her hand, thankful. “Of course, baby.”

“They’re just little houses, you know?” Harry’s hips snapped twice as Lou crooked a knuckle. 

“Yes baby I know that.” 

“That’s how I feel,” Harry whimpered as Lou stroked a little harder, “I mean, without you in me, I’m just a shell. It’s like there’s nothing alive inside of me until you—until you fill me up.” 

Louis gave her another finger, her own breath becoming labored, her insides clenching up without any stimulation whatsoever. “Fuck, Harry, baby…” 

“Want you always to fill me up, wear me, Lou, be _in me_ , touching me inside, touching my heartbeat. You feel so good, you feel so good…” 

Lou had long since gone feverish in her head with the lust of everything, the smell, the hot, the slick, the beats of energy, how Harry’s head pushed back into the mattress when she groaned, laying bare her perfect neck, her tensing shoulders. When Harry began to come around Lou’s fingers, her whole body shaking, once twice, six times, it didn’t matter, because already Lou couldn’t process the overwhelm. Already her own pussy had reached the point of no return, and she knew that even the slightest touch would have her screaming. 

When Harry stilled at last, Lou pulled her hand free, birthing a christened instrument from Harry’s womb, a hand that was holy now, was baptized. She spread her fingers and laid them flat, sticky and red and cramped, atop Harry’s belly. 

“How did I ever think I was _living_ before?” Harry mumbled, half incoherent. “This is wondrous, this is beautiful. Pussy is _everything_ , Lou, _everything_.”

“Ya. Ya it is.” Lou kissed between the mermaid girl’s breasts, buried her nose there, her whole arm aching still. 

“My turn,” Harry giggled, pushing Lou down on her back before undoing her shorts and sliding them off. Lou watched her, the fabric of her being dissolving into threads that floated, loose, formed now by the tides and currents, like seaweed. For a time Harry carded through her curls, but soon that became too much and Lou whined, begging for her thigh. 

“Needs to be quick,” Lou explained as she bucked up into Harry’s flesh, so beyond tortured, too far gone to do anything but cry out as she came, for it felt almost painful, like her desire lived deeper than her skin, like no matter how hard she pushed she could never touch away the need that dug into her belly. 

Lou covered them up as she came down; the sheets were sweaty and cloying, like their skin, but still, they felt like a secret shield. Harry curled into her, their naked bodies breathing together, recovering together, perhaps growing into each other, merging, attaching. 

“Can you make the daisy chain, Lou?” Harry asked after a time, her toes curling into Lou’s calf. 

“Sure,” Lou smiled, disentangling herself enough to grab the poncho and haul it and its cargo up onto the bed. Harry’s curls spread out in a halo around her, framing her face with slightly damp ringlets. “Maybe… here, this might work better.” 

Lou didn’t bother making the blossoms into a chain, she just began to weave them into the other girl’s chocolate curls until she’d used up the whole stash creating an elaborate crown. 

Never had Lou seen any sight so beautiful. The flowers looked like they belonged there, could live there, as if Lou had planted them, as if Harry were all the nourishment their little petals and stamen and buds would ever need, and Lou knew exactly how that felt. She wanted to cry at this beauty, but her tears stayed stuck in her throat. Quickly she found her phone in her discarded shorts’ pocket and snapped a picture before lying down again, tapping the photo to show Harry her portrait. 

“You look like a princess, you know? Royalty suits you, sweetheart.” 

Harry’s breath hitched sharply and she didn’t speak for a few moments. 

“I would be _your_ princess forever.” 

Lou cuddled close, already drifting into a stupored slumber. “Forever sounds perfect”


	4. Moonlight and Mermaids

“You have to _hold still_ , Harriet.” 

“I am!” 

“No, you’re squirming, and now I have to redo the whole fucking eye.” 

“Well that’s ‘cause it feels like you’re poking it out.” 

Lou finished zipping up her pleather pants, a feat, as Niallie’s air conditioning had broken that afternoon. 

“Please don’t poke my girlfriend’s eye out, Nicky,” she sighed, coming to snatch the eyeliner from the medium’s thin fingers. “Here babe, take a breath? Hold for one, two, three, four… and we’re done.” 

She handed the pencil back to Nicky with a satisfied smirk. 

“Forgive me for not knowing the inner workings of your girlfriend.” 

“I should think Lou wouldn’t _want_ you to, actually,” Niallie chimed in from in front of the mirror where she was busy straightening her blonde hair into a smooth, shiny gloss. 

“Is that a pun?” Harry’s eyes got wide, this accentuated by the bold makeup. 

“Oh for for the love of—”

‘Yes, baby, it’s a pun.” Lou kissed her, nipping Nicky’s complaint in the bud. 

They’d decided on _The Flamingo_ after at least a week of internal friction over which dance club would be the most appropriate for Harry’s first time. Nicky (who had rather unexpectedly become a regular guest in Niallie’s home over the past month) had staunchly maintained her position that _Creeks_ , in Sarasota, would be much more Harry’s speed, even going so far as to claim her psychic premonition had warned her about _The Flamingo _. The other girls, most especially Lou, ignored this; Nicky didn’t have a stellar track record, after all.__

“Does this dress look okay?” Niallie asked as she scooched a stretchy little black number over her hips, yanking the fabric until it snapped snugly into place a total of four inches down her thighs. 

“Sure,” Nicky answered without looking up from buttoning her own jumpsuit. 

“Of course it does, it’s _beautiful_ and your legs are so pretty,” Harry praised, smiling at Niallie earnestly until the blonde girl turned away, her cheeks pink. 

“Sincerity trumps platitudes, Nicky. It’s like you’re really _not_ that good at reading people,” Lou ribbed as she kneeled in front of Harry and helped her buckle on the very gold, very high heels they had purchased for this occasion. 

“Oh give it a fucking rest.” But Nicky rather obviously glanced out the corner of her eye at Niallie as she took a last preen in front of the mirror. 

“Alright. Are we finally ready?” 

“Can you do my lipstick, Lou?” 

Nicky slipped on her flats and Niallie ran to get her purse as Lou uncapped the chosen tube (bright red) and twisted it up. 

“Open for me, that’s it, and give me just a little smile.” 

Harry complied, holding very still as Lou smoothed the color along her lips, dabbing at her cupid’s bow and making sure to coat everything twice. 

“Press together… there, perfect.” Lou admired her masterpiece. She also desperately wanted to wreck it. Harry somehow read her mind and reached up to give her a peck, dulling the bright red slightly. 

“Now it’s perfect,” Harry giggled. 

“ _OKAY_ , that’s quite enough of that, isn’t it bad enough we have to live with you two? Honestly. Have some decorum. Shall we leave?” Nicky stomped to the door and exited first, but not before glancing up at the sky. Seemingly satisfied by what she saw, she then motioned everyone else to follow.

Thanks to Niallie’s car they arrived at _The Flamingo_ within a half hour (Lou had always taken public transit, but seeing as it was Harry’s first club, she’d decided to be designated driver and make sure nothing got out of hand). Due to a healthy number of patrons, they had to park in the farthest of the two sandlots, but the walk gave Harry another change to practice mastering heels; her traipsed circles around Niallie’s living room had provided her with plenty of steadying furniture, and absent that, her skills had worsened. Even with her wobbly legs, though, she still radiated giddy excitement, and this proved contagious. Lou felt as if she too were going clubbing for the very first time. 

“How old are you, Harriet? I don’t actually know,” Niallie asked as they waited in line, the club lights flooding out the bright moon overhead. Nicky was busy digging in her purse for both her and Harry’s IDs. 

“Twenty-five,” Harry answered, not really paying much attention, her interest focused inside. 

“And you’ve never been clubbing, huh?” 

“Harriet had a sheltered youth,” Nicky chimed in, unprompted.

Harry snorted and began to dissolve in fits of giggles, eventually falling into Lou, her entire body shaking. 

“You think that’s funny, do you?” Nicky planted both hands on her hips. 

“ _Shel_ tered, Nicky, _sheltered_ , get it?” 

Lou looked between the two of them, utterly lost. 

“I swear to god, the devil, and the fucking tooth fairy that if you make _one more_ bad pun I will kick you out on your tush, Harriet.” 

“I’ll just go live with Lou,” Harry grinned, finally gaining control of herself as the bouncer opened the rope and let them inside. 

Bodies packed the dance floor, blocking their way to the bar. To Lou’s surprise, Harry confidently grabbed her hand and started forward, yelling over the music, “They’re just like schools of fish! Everyone moves at the same time!” 

Lou had approximately zero idea what this meant, but soon Harry succeeded in landing them along the broad wooden bar. When Niallie and Nicky finally managed to join them, the girls turned their attention to ordering drinks. Harry studied her options intently, waffling between hard liquors that Lou knew she’d find too strong and fruity ales that Niallie refused to acknowledge as alcohol at all. 

“Look, just get her something salty, Lou,” Nicky finally concluded, nursing her own gin and tonic, “Harriet’s partial to salty liquid.” 

“I am? Oh.” Harry dimpled and winked at Nicky, who simply rolled her eyes.

Niallie pinched her nose and downed a shot. “I thought that was a sex joke? But now I’m not so sure.” 

“Not _everything_ is a sex joke, Niallie. Does your mind never venture out of the gutter?” 

“Not with you around,” the blonde girl responded, the tequila clearly working its magic already. She raised her eyebrows suggestively and licked the corner of her mouth. “Come on, medium at large, dance with me. I dare you to use your powers and stay one step ahead!” Before Nicky had time to protest and look more peeved than usual, Niallie hauled her into the fray.

Lou got her girlfriend a margarita, opting to split the difference between salty and sweet. As soon as the dink landed in front of her, Harry began picking at its dipped rim. 

“You’re supposed to taste that when you take a sip, babe,” Lou explained.

“Oh!” Harry lifted the glass carefully and, before Lou could stop her, gulped half its contents. Her eyes immediately screwed shut and she froze for several moments. 

“Baby,” Lou couldn’t help laughing as she took the drink from Harry’s grip and placed it back on the bar, “Salty enough for you?” 

“Hey!” Harry opened her eyes and mock glared at Lou as she snatched up the glass again and drained it dry. “It’s _perfect_.” 

Lou couldn’t resist. She scooped Harry up and kissed her, hard. “Come dance with me.” 

“You won’t let me fall, will you?” Harry scream-asked as Lou led her past the booming speakers. 

“Never, baby!” Lou screamed back, looping an arm securely around Harry’s waist and pulling her close, rocking their bodies to the beat until Harry relaxed into her heels and stopped concentrating on trying to remain upright, instead trusting Lou with her stability. A disco ball glittered above them, as did numerous foil stars hung from the ceiling, and when Harry spotted these she began to drop her head back every few seconds and stare up, open-mouthed and wonderstruck. 

In no time at all Harry learned to copy the swing of Lou’s hips and how her feet moved side to side and back again, and soon she wanted to try partnered twirling, like in the movies. Lou didn’t have the heart to deny her a ballroom moment even in the midst of dance tracks, so she nodded. Their first attempt failed rather spectacularly, and they crashed into two very tall women dancing beside them, but their second attempt succeeded. Harry spun in her heels and shrieked in glee as Lou’s heart thudded louder than the bass beause she fucking _loved_ her mermaid girl so much. Feeling drunk on nothing but Harry’s presence, Lou pulled her in for a heady kiss as the beat dropped and the spotlights angled to the floor. Before she could suggest they find a bathroom stall, a tipsy Niallie interrupted them. 

“Lou, did you know there’s a _skylight_? Right above us! Nicky just told me!” 

Lou didn’t want to remove her lips, but she did. “Good?” Harry ground up against her just then, pushing everything Niallie said into irrelevance. 

“Imma go open it,” Niallie declared, dancing off into the sea of people; Lou paid her barely any mind. 

“I think they’re in love!” Harry shouted directly in her ear. 

“What?” 

“Nicky and Niallie! They’re in love! Muah, kissing, pussy, all of it!” 

“Babe you might be a lightweight,” Lou laughed, pecking along Harry’s neck, leaving a wet trail with her mouth. 

“You should see me be weightless! In the water! SWISH!” 

“Baby I see you swim every week!”

“Not _really_ , you only see me—” 

Harry froze suddenly, her fingers digging into Lou’s arms like claws. Startled at the pain, Lou tried to pull away, but Harry wouldn’t let go. Seconds later a loud _crack_ sounded and Lou found herself being pulled along the dance floor, Harry yanking her as fast as she could run. They crashed into at least ten people, including the bouncer, before tumbling from the club entrance to the sidewalk. 

Harry didn’t stop there, though; in a frenzy she pulled Lou through both parking lots until they reached Niallie’s car. She then made Lou hunker against the vehicle as they both kneeled into the hard sand. 

“Call Nicky,” she whispered, beyond distraught, her forehead one giant crease of worry. Without question, Lou dug her phone out and dialed. Nicky answered on the first ring with a simple, “Coming,” then hung up. 

When Harry shifted her legs and groaned Lou finally realized what had made the cracking noise; Harry had broken a heel. Her ankle lay at an abnormal angle in the sand. 

“Harry? Are you okay?” Lou still hadn’t managed to catch her breath, but all hope of that ended when Harry clenched her in a too-tight hug. 

“You’re okay.” 

“Baby, I’m fine, but your ankle—”

“I’m so sorry, Lou, I didn’t mean for this to happen, I’m… I’m…” 

“Shhh,” Lou tried to comfort her, but Harry was inconsolable. Fortunately Nicky ran up then, dragging a very cross Niallie behind her. 

“Harriet, talk to me,” Nicky ordered even as she dug for the car keys in Niallie’s purse. 

“The skylight, she opened it, didn’t she?” 

“The—what?” Lou tried to put the pieces together.

“The moonlight, Nicky.” And with those words Harry began to cry, her tears breathy at first, then devolving into silent shudders. 

“Baby _what_ is going on?” 

But Harry wouldn’t speak again. They all hurriedly loaded into the car and Lou began to drive. Not until they’d passed the club’s entrance did Harry tear her eyes from the window and look at Lou, and not until they’d merged onto the freeway did she audibly start breathing again. 

Lou tried to keep her voice steady. “Will someone tell me what’s going on?”

“Ya, why’d you drag me out, Nicky? We were dancing! Under the stars.” 

“Just drive, Lou.” Nicky didn’t say this harshly, but fear bled through her tone. 

They drove in silence save for Niallie’s occasional disgruntled sigh. Finally Lou pulled into Niallie’s driveway and parked, turning off the car lights and unbuckling her seatbelt only to sit there, not sure if she should be the first to move. 

“Should we go inside?” She finally asked. 

Nicky opened her door and slipped out, walking around the vehicle to collect Niallie. Harry remained seated. 

“What on earth has scared you like this, baby?” Lou reached over and petted at her girlfriend’s curls, worry eating her up. 

“Don’t ask me, Lou, never ask me, promise? You _have_ to promise. I can’t lose you.” Harry broke into tears again, and though every logical bone in Lou’s body screamed at her to push, to get answers, to end this endless charade of secrets, she couldn’t deny the weeping girl beside her. She would do _anything_ , anything for Harry. 

“Alright, baby, I promise. Here sweetheart, I’ve got you, you’re safe, okay?” Lou embraced her as best she could from their seats. 

“Oh Lou,” Harry shook her head, but made an attempt at stemming her tears.

“Let’s go to bed, alright? I’ll make you some tea and we’ll look at your ankle, see if we can wrap it up or something. Come on baby,” Lou prompted, unbuckling Harry’s belt for her and coming around to open her door as well. Harry didn’t stand until Lou took her hands, but once she was up she hobbled willingly enough across Niallie’s little patch of lawn and into the house. Lou got her to the couch and deposited her there as she put the kettle on and hurried to find the ace bandage Niallie kept somewhere in the bathroom cabinet. When she returned, she found Harry and Nicky deep in whispered conversation. They quieted as Lou knelt by the sofa and gently pulled Harry’s injured leg towards her. 

Lou bound her girlfriend’s ankle in silence, annoyance nipping at the bottom of her lungs, making her itchy and brittle with questions. Nicky declared that she was crashing on the couch, and as Niallie had already disappeared, Lou nodded in acknowledgement. 

Hop by hop Lou helped Harry to their bed. As soon as they’d crawled beneath the sheets, Harry pressed fully against Lou, tight, flush, as if they were magnets. The mermaid girl linked their fingers and twined their limbs until the two of them resembled a root system embedded in earth. For the first time, Harry’s facade of wide-eyed joy and innocence cracked; or at least, for the first time Lou _noticed it_ , finally acknowledged that for all Harry’s wondrous quirks and carefree laughter, something much darker haunted her steps. The extent of Harry’s fear, and the extent to which she’d succeeded at hiding it deep inside herself, became apparent to Lou at last. 

Unsurprisingly, Lou couldn’t fall asleep.

*

Harry picked at her breakfast the next morning while Nicky ate nothing, remaining uncharacteristically silent. They left by eight-thirty, Nicky insistent that she had to open for customers at nine and there was no point in Lou driving Harry back separately when she herself had to be at work by ten. Lou could feel the tension in her excuse, though, and it didn’t escape her or Niallie’s notice that as soon as the door closed behind the two women, they began talking in hushed tones. Only when Lou trudged back to the kitchen and started on the breakfast dishes did Niallie voice the opinion she’d clearly been holding in for some time. 

“Someone’s after her, Lou.” 

Scrubbing a bowl furiously, Lou shook her head. “You think a hit man is dancing in _The Flamingo_? Come on.” 

“Might not be like that. Might be a crazy ex or a crazy family member or minions from a cult or something. Told you this was fishy right from the get-go.”

“Ya, well they’re not baptists, so.” 

“Lou. I’m serious.” 

Nearly dropping a sudzed plate in her frustration, Lou snapped, “She won’t tell me, what am I supposed to do?” 

“Look, there are secrets, and then there are _secrets_. This one clearly affects you. Apparently it affects your _safety_? I’d say you have a right to know about that.”

“If she could tell me, she would.” Lou stubbornly clenched her jaw as she balanced two glasses on the drying rack. “Lighten up, Niallie, it’s like you’ve never seen one of those superhero movies where the dude can’t tell the girl he’s secretly like, spiderman or something.” 

“Do you even fucking hear yourself?” Niallie gently took the sponge from Lou’s hand and turned off the tap. “Where’s the girl that’s always said life isn’t like the movies? This isn’t a fairytale. That shit’s not real.” Niallie paused for emphasis before continuing, “You’re scared, Lou, you’re being a coward because you don’t want to lose her. I thought only Louanna was a coward in love.” 

Lou recoiled as if Niallie had slapped her. Heat rose to her face and she parried back, “No need to be cruel.” 

“You pined after Veronica for _years_ , and who had to hear about it? Me. You worried and wondered and spent whole weeks in pity parties until it was _too late_ , until she met Li and moved in with them and fell in love and fucking _married_ them, and THEN you decided your heart was broken.” Niallie wagged a finger now, her eyebrows raising simultaneously. “You’re being cruel to _yourself_ , putting your heart in places it’s gonna get crushed and doing nothing about it. This won’t end well, Lou, you know it. You need to find out what’s going on.” 

Lou hated that her friend’s words stung with truth. Still, she refused to admit defeat. “Think whatever you want, it’s a free country.” 

“That’s the lamest retort yet. My sermon really struck a chord this time, huh? Just promise me you’ll think about it.” 

Lou glared, but eventually she nodded; she would never be able to completely banish these thoughts—these problems, these questions—now. The worm of Harry’s mystery had burrowed in her brain already, and though it munched slowly, it munched all the same. 

*

Harry’s quiet mood gradually lifted as the week went on, though every now and again Lou would catch her staring at a blank space, her brows drawn, her nose slightly flared as she opted to breathe through it instead of her pinched lips. Twice Lou almost broke her promise, almost gave in to the Niallie-sounding voice in her head and begged Harry to explain everything, but then Harry would smile at her and Lou would lose all motivation to pry. 

Apart from her moments of quiet, though, Harry’s mood also carried a slight edge. Though at the beginning of their relationship she had claimed to not know anything about sarcasm, now Harry could execute it perfectly when she wanted, and Lou heard her nip Nicky down to size at least three times before Friday. Lou rather enjoyed this development, though she worried slightly about what had caused it. Harry also began to squirm around at night, no matter if they slept in her own bed or Lou’s, and that was very odd, as typically Harry conked out harder than a seal in the sun and didn’t so much as turn over until morning. 

Harry’s ankle irked her the whole week, and though Lou could see it caused her pain, she refused any type of medication. By the time Saturday night rolled around, it still hadn’t improved much, so Harry called Stevie, nearly in tears, to cancel her swim slot. Lou still went to work Sunday, but she promised to come over right after and fill her girlfriend in on all the little gossips she’d missed. 

It took Lou a good while to walk to Vicky’s from _The Bulkhead_ , but the fresh night air felt good in her lungs and after the mild divergence her week had taken from the norm, she found that the steady beat of her feet against the pavement seemed to stack her brain back in order. Nicky’s ‘Medium at Large’ sign glowed in neon red from the dark window, so Lou headed to her back door. It was open, so she let herself in, as she normally did. 

“Babe? I’m here…” 

She heard voices from the living room, so naturally she walked in that direction. 

“You should have just gone anyways, Harriet, ankle be damned.”

“Maybe ankles are only marginally important for _you_ , but if I go in there and can’t steer one way or the other—” 

“Then you hang onto a fucking rope or something, I don’t know! This isn’t my area of expertise, so I don’t know what you expect me to say.” 

Lou flattened herself against the kitchen wall, her heart pounding, her conscience prickling. She ignored it. When she heard Harry give a little whimper, though, she nearly blew her own cover and ran to offer comfort. 

“Then don’t say anything, Nicky.”

“Hey, hey, don’t be like that. You know I care. Look, maybe this _is_ normal, you really have nothing else to go by. And you’ve been swimming all this time and it’s still happened, so, I mean, when you first told me you said two months, right? Well you’ve been swimming every week since you got here. So I think you shouldn’t worry.” 

“But what if—”

“No what ifs. I don’t see that in your future, Harriet, and I’ve checked.” 

Lou bumped into a picture frame and it slammed back against the wall. Mentally cursing, she ran backwards and retraced her steps, letting her footfalls sound now. 

“H-Harry?” She called, her voice squeaky, guilty. 

Nicky rounded the corner rather quickly. “Hi, Lou. You just get here?” 

“Ya.” Lou found it hard to swallow. “I’m not interrupting anything, am I?” 

“No,” Nicky stared at her only briefly, but if felt like the medium was taking a peek at her bones. “Harriet’s ankle is still acting up, that’s all.” 

Perhaps Lou imagined that Nicky emphasized the word _all_. 

“Oh.” Lou made what she hoped was a sympathetic face. 

“She’s in there. I’ve got to open up again for my late night customers. Mrs. Wilson is coming in to speak to Freddie again.” 

Lou decided to try getting her normal bravado back with a dig. “Freddie Mercury? Do you commune with him too, now?” 

“Freddie her dead Persian Longhair. But to answer your question, yes, I do, and he’s told me multiple times that your taste in shoes is appalling.” Nicky turned on her heel and marched down the hall, her black lace outfit swooshing behind her. 

Lou breathed a sigh of relief before entering the living room. Harry sat on the couch, her eyes downcast, looking morose. “You doing okay, baby?” Lou asked, sitting beside her and giving her a little kiss. “Can I get you something? I could rub your feet, if you want.” 

“That’s alright Lou.” Harry leaned into her, still not smiling. “It’s not really my ankle anyways.” 

“No? What is it, baby?” 

Harry opened her mouth but said nothing. Lou didn’t push, just started to card through her curls. Harry linking their hands, touching their palms, and eventually she spoke. 

“Can we go see the lights in that store, Lou? The ones that hang like diamonds?” 

“The chandeliers? I’ll take you first thing tomorrow.” 

“Not now?” 

“Baby, Home Depot is closed now.” 

And Harry began to _cry_. Lou gathered her up, shocked, and held her close, very confused. Home Depot had never struck her as the type of place to cry about, at least not absent a day spent watching fellow lesbians shop around the lumber department, but Harry had never even set foot in the place. 

“We can go as soon as it opens, sweetheart.” 

“No that—” Harry hiccuped, “I just wanted to forget _now_. I wanted _you_ to forget. And I would tell you what hurts but I can already feel you doubting me, and it’s like knives in my chest, I can’t breathe.”

“Harry.” Firmly, Lou clasped her girlfriend’s face between her hands. Perhaps the time had come for honesty. “It’s not that I doubt _you_. It just hurts me that I can’t know, for whatever reason. Nicky clearly knows, and I love you so much more than Nicky.” 

Lou didn’t realise her Freudian slip until Harry pulled back from her, her eyes big, her mouth hanging open. “You _love_ me?” 

Little spots of color sparked to life on Harry’s cheeks and her pulse picked up beneath Lou’s fingers. “Of course I love you, Harry.” 

The tension in Harry’s face drained away. “In the movies that’s what always comes at the end, right before the kiss. I’ve been dreaming of you telling me that, Lou.” She laid her lips gently to Lou’s left cheekbone in a kiss, a kiss more tender and precious than Lou had ever received, a kiss that branded her skin, that would mark her forever. “I’m in love with you too.” 

Lou let silence collect around them as they held each other, their new confessions taking root. Harry broke the quiet after a while. 

“I didn’t ever tell Nicky. She found out by accident, and she’s still mad about it. She wishes she were never involved. I think she wishes she’d never met me.” Harry took a deep breath into Lou’s neck, inhaling her settled scent. 

“I would never wish that.” 

“You might.” 

“No,” Lou squeezed the soft love handles at Harry’s hips, “I could never.” Lou felt more than heard Harry whimper, but despite her reassurance she offered no more information. “At least can you tell me what hurts, baby?”

“Oh.” Harry tucked her head beneath Lou’s chin, her curls ticklish. “My boobs are hurting.” 

That had not been the answer Lou would have guessed. “Maybe I can make them not hurt?” Lou suggested, smiling and waggling her eyebrows as she pecked Harry’s dimple gently. 

“Don’t think you can.” 

“But I can _try_.” Lou laid Harry back on the cushions and looked up for permission before hitching her shirt; Harry nodded, resigned looking, not at all hopeful, sitting up a bit so Lou could slip the fabric under her ribcage. When Harry flopped back down against Nicky’s pillows, her breasts bounced with her thud. Lou didn’t remember them being so puffy as they were now, nor did she recall Harry’s nipples being red and irritated. Trying to be as soothing as possible, Lou ran her tongue across Harry’s pebbled skin before closing her lips over a nub and giving a little suck. 

_Liquid_ filled Lou’s mouth, gagging her unexpectedly. She pulled off, coughing, her chin dripping. 

“Oh my god,” she murmured half to herself, half to the very obviously lactating girl laid out before her. “Harry, your boobs hurts because they’re full of _milk_. Holy shit.” 

“Ya I… know.” 

“Baby.” Lou wiped her chin. “That’s not… that’s not—” 

“Normal. I know.” Harry licked her upper lip before biting it and blinking furiously. “ _I’m_ not normal, Lou.”

Harry’s staved off tears fell freely down her temples, now, sparkling like little gems. “You’re wasting all you beautiful tears, sweetheart. I don’t care. I don’t care at all.” And Lou meant this. Fuck Niallie. Fuck danger. Fuck her jealousy over Nicky’s privilege. Lou dipped her head and latched back on to Harry’s swollen breast and sucked, pushing the strangeness from her mind and focusing instead on how her milk tasted like thinned honey, like whipped meringue, like a weak champagne poured out at the end of summer when the air had gone sticky with water and only bubbles could quench thirst. Harry moaned as she nursed, though not in pain, because soon she’d lifted a hand and slid her fingers under the waistband of Lou’s shorts. When the first breast went dry, Lou moved to the other, surprised to find herself quite addicted now, hungry for the taste, the warmth, how softly Harry’s hard nub formed against her lips, between her teeth. 

“You’re so wet,” Harry whispered as she tugged on Lou’s pubic hair, smoothing it out between her fingers, conditioning it with slick. Not able to respond in words, Lou answered with her hips, and Harry finally took pity and slipped two fingers inside. 

Hardly needing more than a crook of knuckle and the fullness breach, Lou came quickly. She finished the last of Harry’s milk just as the echos of her orgasm faded. 

“They don’t hurt anymore,” Harry mused, seemingly surprised. 

“See? Told you I could do it.” Lou looked down at her lover, observing the dark fullness of Harry’s pupils, her flushed cheeks, the dewy dampness that had collected above her upper lip. “And,” Lou began to slide Harry’s leggings down, “You know what else I can suck?” 

“Tell me,” Harry breathed, her scent growing stronger as the fabric retracted.

“I can suck away the mess you’ve made down here,” Lou got Harry’s leggings ‘round her knees, “Clean up this wild pussy you have.” 

“Gonna try to tame it, Lou?” Harry’s voice barely sounded human. 

“Never, baby, it’s too magnificent, too majestic.” Lou lowered her face into Harry’s mass of soft curls, parting them with her nose. At the sight of Harry’s puffy red lips—stuck together with wet, thick and engorged already, ripe like fruit glazed with nectar—spit filled Lou’s mouth.

“ _You’re_ everything, Lou,” Harry gulped out before she could say no more words, before Lou reduced her to gurgles and moans, before her lanky body came and came again in a gush on Lou’s hungry tongue. Lou crawled up to spoon her, after, a hard feat on such a small couch. She left her hand atop Harry’s pussy, though, just feeling her soft heartbeat, petting ever so lightly, like it was a little fawn and not the entrance to her womb. 

 

*

Niallie disagreed with Lou’s continued acceptance of being in the dark. She didn’t really have a leg to stand on, though, as her eyes had begun to drift more and more in Nicky’s direction of late, and, as Lou took every opportunity to remind her, Nicky kept _just_ as many secrets as Harry did, maybe more. 

“Okay but like, guarding Freddie’s darkest confessions is a little different than withholding potentially dangerous information from your girlfriend.”

“Please, what dark confessions could he possibly have.” 

“He killed someone, once, just for pure entertainment.” 

Lou had paused with a spoon full of golden grahams halfway to her mouth. “Freddie Mercury.” 

“Oh, I meant Mrs. Wilson’s cat. He once cornered a mouse by the refrigerator, truly gruesome. But Nicky _has_ mentioned the other Freddie, apparently he thinks your shoes—”

“Yep, know that already, thanks.”

Lou had filed these conversations away under ‘Niallie being ridiculous,’ and for the most part had conditioned herself to ignore the nagging curiosity that occasionally haunted her. And at any rate, Harry had finally made a full recovery, her ankle returning to working order three weeks after the club; her bubbly personality lost its gloomy coating around the same time. Lou now had more important things to worry about than, well, _worrying_. Like, for instance, taking the girl she loved to her first antique shop. 

“This one, then. It _has_ to be a weapon. You’d sling it around and throw it at your enemies, right?”

“Wrong. They used it to press clothes.” Nicky took the cast iron artifact from Harry’s grip and replaced it on the shelf. 

“Huh?” 

Niallie, who had offered to carry Harry’s basket and was now regretting that choice, held out the bottom of her button up. “You know this morning? When I ironed this shirt before putting it on? That’s what _that_ thing did.” 

“Oh.” Harry’s mouth made an exaggerated expression. “But it really does look like it could kill someone.”

“Now imagine it’s burning hot,” Nicky muttered, examining two ceramic salt shakers that looked like corn-stalks. 

Lou nearly burst into a fit of laughter as Harry made a face and moved on to the next stall. Taking her to the antique mall downtown had turned out to be one of the best ideas Lou’d ever had. Things were going swimmingly. Harry had fallen head over heels for the costume jewelry (Lou had secretly scooped up a handful of rings to buy for her) and couldn’t get enough of the old children’s toys and sets of china. She also became so fascinated with smoking pipes that Lou had nearly gotten lost in a daydream fetish involving a feminized Sherlock Holmes. Old-fashioned ladies’ things, however, Harry loved most of all: the frilly aprons and long gloves and broaches and button boots and perfume bottles and dressing tables. 

“It’s so soft,” Harry declared, running her fingers over an old bristle brush, silver backed, part of a vanity set. Carefully, she brought it up to comb at her own curls. 

“Harriet!” Nicky grabbed her hand, “Gross, who knows where that’s been?” 

“In someone’s hair?” 

Nicky rolled her eyes so hard Lou could see the whites only. “I’m going to check out their crystals, please watch your girlfriend, Lou.” 

With Niallie preoccupied by a stack of ancient books, Lou guided Harry to a clothes rack. “These,” she explained, “Were the fashions my grandma wore when she was our age. And some look, gosh, from even earlier.” 

Harry pet through the fragile fabrics, mussing a swirl of allergens into the air that nearly caused Lou to sneeze. “They’re beautiful. So delicate and lacy, kinda like Nicky’s work dress but much prettier.” 

“You could try them on, if you want,” Lou suggested nonchalantly, knowing exactly the tissy she would set off. 

“I _can_? Oh Lou, I _have_ to, I have to!” Harry set about picking her favorites, piling her arms with long summer dresses and fancy party gowns, mink stoles and velvet hats. When she’d nearly emptied the entire section, Lou led her towards the basement dressing room, a simple curtained-off corner with a hand hung sign. 

“I’ve never seen you in lace before, Lou,” Harry giggled as she pulled the curtain around them and began sorting her spoils. “Here, this one’s for you, and I’ll wear this—” 

Lou shook her head involuntarily as Harry foisted the garment into her hands. 

“—Lou?” 

“I…” She didn’t mean to damper Harry’s excitement, but. “Maybe just you can try them on, sweetheart. I’m not really in the mood.” 

“Oh.” Harry blinked at her, but didn’t argue. “Okay.” She slipped out of her t-shirt and leggings and into a blue satin dress, embroidered elaborately, lacy at the collar and sleeves, and with a long bow in the back underneath a row of fabric-covered buttons. Lou’s breath left her as Harry scooped her curls up from under the neck and smoothed the dress down her hips whilst giving a little twirl to the ancient mirror leaning against the wall. 

“Can you do it up, Lou?” Harry asked, motioning to the buttons. 

Lou nodded, her fingers trembling slightly as she tugged the shiny material together and struggled to slip each button inside its aged, slightly shrunken receptacle. She could remember vividly the last time she’d done this, the last time she’d watched a girl twirl around in an old dress that smelled like dust and wood and potpourri. 

Harry completed her look with the mink stole and a tiny black headpiece that had a netting veil attached. “Could I pass as an old human?” She tittered, preening adorably. 

A vice seemed to squeeze at Lou’s chest. Yes she loved this girl, this strange, wonderful girl, but secretly she had saved a little pocket of her heart for herself, a dark, small place that she usually tried to put from her mind for the simple reason that she didn’t want to ask herself why she’d not let Harry fill it. The why, of course, was that she’d once let another girl fill every part of her. And that girl had _broken_ every part of her. These past months Lou hadn’t thought of Veronica much at all, but this hit her like a boulder, and she couldn’t stop her eyes from filling with tears as she looked at Harry, Harry playing dress up, Harry wearing the very garments of make-believe that had first awakened her gay little soul at age thirteen in her bedroom closet as Veronica had slipped out of her bell bottoms and Britney Spears shirt and into a soft violet dress with lace fronting and a neckline that had scooped down just like Lou’s stomach. 

“Lou?” Harry reached out and wiped away one of her tears. 

“Sorry, ignore me, babe. You look beautiful.” 

Harry didn’t ignore her, of course. “I remind you too much of Nicky, don’t I? I can understand how that would be disturbing. I’ll go for something less lacy, okay?” 

Lou chuckled despite herself. “No, baby. You don’t remind me of Nicky, you…” Lou wasn’t guilty about it, didn’t need to confess it in a bad way, but she wanted to say it out loud. Maybe doing so would cleanse it from her, let it heal in the open air. “You remind me of Veronica.” 

Harry stilled all the way to her toes and her eyes got soft and she laid a hand on Lou’s arm. “Did you and Veronica dress up in fancy old clothes?” 

“Ya. All the time, when we were little.” Lou fought to smile. 

“Here,” Harry handed her the same outfit she’d offered before, firm resolution in her voice, “Now _we_ wear fancy old clothes together.” 

Lou met her girlfriend’s eyes; in them lived a solid, crystalline reassurance, as if moons could fling themselves out of orbit and she’d still be moored to Lou, unwavering, steadfast, real, _hers_. Lou had never seen that sentiment mirrored back at her, never with Veronica, and certainly never with any of her short-term flings. She realized right then that ever since the club, she’d been looking for markers of Harry’s commitment in all the wrong places. Never had she just looked into the mermaid girl’s eyes. Now she saw a loyalty so plainly written that it could only stem from the deepest, richest love. 

Utterly certain, Lou sank to one knee, fumbling in her pocket for the stash of rings she’d been keeping to purchase. Her fingers closed around one and she pulled it out, a silver band, bare save for an engraving across the top that Lou neither cared about nor could read. She held it up. 

“Marry me, Harry.” 

Even the air became silent as Harry stared at her in shock. Finally she clapped her hands over her mouth and her eyes filled with tears; she kept staring, muffled crying sounds starting to leak from between her fingers. 

“I bet—yep, here they are Niallie! What in the devil’s name are you wearing, Harriet—wait, are you… is she crying?” 

Lou knew the curtain had been pulled back, knew that Nicky stood beside them now, and that Niallie was approaching from the stairs, but she didn’t care. These events were taking place in a different universe. Her interest lay solely in the curly-haired, blue-satin-dress-wearing girl in front of her, the girl who was now nodding her head furiously and holding out her trembling, tear-wet left hand. 

“Lou did you... _Oh my god_.” 

“Perfect. This is just what we need, I swear if—” 

For just a second Lou’s attention broke and she saw Niallie silence Nicky with a kiss, holding the medium tightly against her as she angled away from the dressing room’s immediate space. 

“Ya?” Lou whispered when Harry held up her hand to admire its new addition, her dimples massive. 

“Ya,” Harry replied, pulling Lou to her feet and smashing their mouths together.

Lou closed her eyes and let her heart soar as she tongued into Harry’s mouth, as she looped her arms around Harry’s satin waist and pulling her snug. In that moment, nothing existed but the two of them: no Niallie and Nicky, no antique shop, no past broken hearts, and no secrets. 

*

Only after a solid two weeks did Nicky finally begin calling Lou Harry’s fiance. It probably would have taken much longer, but Niallie used her own bit of magic to soothe the stubborn medium’s otherwise crotchety persona. Fortunately for the four of them, double dates proved to be enjoyable for all parties, and though Nicky pretended to be allergic to PDA, on occasion Niallie could manage to make her turn bright red from a quick peck on the cheek. 

When the next Sunday rolled around, Stevie needed to change Lou to an earlier shift, as someone had called in sick last minute. So instead of working late with Harry, Lou found herself waiting for her fiance at home, keeping busy with all the household chores she’d been neglecting. After cleaning the stove and doing a load of towels and swiffering the kitchen floor, she checked the clock; eleven-thirty and come and gone, and still Harry wasn’t home. 

Lou shrugged this off, putting on the kettle and setting out two mugs in anticipation of her return. She didn’t have to wait long. 

“Lou, guess what!” The front door opened and shut in one giant whoosh and Harry skidded into the kitchen, hopping about on one bare foot and shaking the remaining rain boot off of her other. Harry continued, not waiting for Lou to guess at all. “They had a HUGE sale! _All_ of them were like twenty-five cents, and I couldn’t pass it up, so I got half the rack, and look, just _look_ at them all!” 

She dumped a plastic CVS bag out on the kitchen table, spilling at least twenty different nail polishes in every direction. 

“Look, see this color? I’ve never even _seen_ it in the air before, like how did they _know_? And this one is just sparkles, like that’s all it is. And this one is _gold_ , Lou, and this one looks just like that open and closed sign on the gas station, and…” Harry trailed off, throwing up her arms, overwhelmed with happiness. “Can you paint my toes, Lou, _please_?”

The kettle boiled, hissing and whistling, jogging Lou from her rapture. “You wanna do it right now or have tea first?” She asked, knowing Harry’s answer even as she turned off the burner. 

“Can we do it right now?” 

“That means you have to pick a favorite, though.” 

“This one. I’d already decided on the walk home.” Harry clutched the unusually-colored polish to her chest, tilting back and forth delightedly. 

“Probably best if we do it in better lighting. Bathroom?” 

Harry followed her into the tiny space and Lou patted the sink for Harry to hop up on the counter and plant her toes against the basin ridge, well lit and solid and easily accessible. 

“Alright now.” Lou shook the polish, the clack of the metal bead setting the rhythm of her own heart. She unscrewed the lid and dabbed the little brush free of excess before drawing it carefully down Harry’s delicate baby toe.

“That tickles,” Harry giggled, her toes curling up slightly as Lou swiped the brush again. 

“You gotta hold still, baby, I’m not Da Vinci.” 

Harry did her best, but between little trills of excitement and her tickle reflex, it took Lou a good eight minutes to complete the task to her satisfaction. When she’d finished and replaced the polish cap, Harry gasped. 

“They’re perfect, Lou. They look so pretty,” Harry cooed as she wiggled her tootsies in the bathroom light. 

“ _You’re_ so pretty,” Lou whispered, kissing Harry’s knee before she glanced up to meet her eyes. Harry blushed, her toes slipping from the rim of the sink to scoot down its sides until her heels were pressing down on the drain stopper, until she had a firm enough stance—seated atop the sink as she was—to take Lou’s face between her hands and kiss her. 

Everything happened in a single instant. Harry moaned, deepening the kiss, angling her lips, angling her body, but in doing so she jerked her legs too, forgetting that the faucet handle rested just above her ankles. Water gushed out into the newly-plugged sink, and Lou began to laugh their ridiculous clumsiness, at the absurdity of the situation, but then Harry cried out and jolted and flailed and would have fallen head-first from the counter if Lou hadn’t caught her. As it was they both still toppled to the floor, Lou breaking her fiance’s fall. 

Her immediate thought being Harry’s wellbeing, Lou looked first to her lover’s eyes, but found in them only panic and fear. Thinking Harry had otherwise injured herself, Lou glanced down at Harry’s pale, bare legs. 

She saw it then. It shimmered like polished metal, a deep, many-colored green, fanning out from where Harry should have had toes, wispy and near-translucent in its delicacy. Instead of skin, glistening emerald scales raced up Harry’s feet, giving way and parting to form two legs just above her ankles. 

Every single word Lou had ever learned left her brain. Though she felt she should look away, she couldn’t. She watched as the scales receded and the fragile tail morphed back into Harry’s newly-painted toes. 

Finally Lou blinked, focusing on the bathroom walls straight ahead of her, on their peach color, their chipping paint, clinging to the logic that they would remain upright even if everything else started to spin. Harry kept perfectly still in her arms, her breath shallow, as if even a loud inhalation could spark an explosion. 

Still mute, Lou finally got hold of herself enough to move, to turn her head, to swallow. She found Harry’s eyes trained on her face. 

“Let’s… let’s go to bed, baby,” Lou whispered at last, bending to plant a shaky kiss on Harry’s forehead. 

“Lou I—” 

“S’okay love.” Lou stood, somehow managing to keep the mermaid girl— _the mermaid_ —tight in her arms. She fell into their mattress and Harry folded around her, finally starting to breath normally. Lou combed through her fiance’s curls, relying on the senses in her fingertips instead of the knotting mess of questions in her brain. She closed her eyes against the late night and the pounding contradictions and the utter impossibility of it all. Though a strange type of excitement beat through her blood, a calm had settled in her too; at last, this was the answer. At last, everything made sense. 

Lou made a mental note that Nicky could soon tell Freddie Mercury in person where he could shove his shoe opinions, because Lou had every intention of punching the medium through to the ghost realm come morning. With this last thought, the silence of sleep claimed her mind. 

*

They both woke up early, neither of them ready to communicate with words. They kissed for a time, then ate a silent, short breakfast before walking to Nicky’s (Niallie and her car were already there). Lou could feel the beginnings of a sunburn on her neck when they finally arrived. Plumes of incense greeted them as they entered the store-front and the little door-bells jingled. Nicky looked up from her table, already in her work attire, a bit startled to see them. 

“You two are out early. Niallie’s not even awake yet. Need something?” 

“ _Need_ something?” Lou’s tongue loosened quickly, Nicky’s voice the only lubricant she needed to unleash her pent-up stewing. “Ya, I fucking _need_ something, Nicky, I need to know why you made my fiance keep the secret that she’s a _mermaid_.” 

Nicky’s mouth turned to a hard line and she immediately looked at Harry with furrowed eyebrows. “You told her.”

“I didn’t, it was an accident, she—”

“Another fucking accident. This is why I told you it would _never work_ , but you don’t listen to me, do you? No, just go around recklessly condemning all the humans you meet to death. Great plan, Harriet.” 

“Don’t,” Lou stepped protectively in front of Harry, her ire fully up now, “Talk to her like that.”

Nicky shook her head and looked to the ceiling for patience. “Take a seat, Louanna Tomlinson. You don’t know what you’re dealing with.” 

Harry slipped her hand in Lou’s, squeezing twice until Lou turned to her. “Nicky’s right. She’s right.” 

“Might as well make yourself comfortable on the couch, seeing as _death_ could visit us at any moment. Shall I tell or do you want to, Harriet? Why don’t I lock the door so we make sure not to rope any more unsuspecting humans into this disaster.” 

Her silence permission for Nicky to continue, Harry pulled Lou down to the dirty leather sofa normally used for readings. Though the last thing Lou wanted to do was sit still, she went pliantly. When the medium had flipped off her sign and pulled the drapes, she rejoined them, taking a cigarette from her lace sleeve. 

“Harriet didn’t know about rain, that’s where this started,” Nicky began, lighting up, joining her smoke to the already thick air. “She’d been in St. Pete once before, but it was only when her family sent her back that she decided to seek magical help. She walked in here with some bullshite story about needing to break a spell of blood magic, and I honestly thought she was insane. I get my fair share of that, you understand, and as long as they pay, whatever, I deal with it. But see, it had started raining as we talked, and when Harriet left she stepped in a puddle right there in the parking lot with her stupid fucking flip flops on.” 

Nicky took another pull. “Fell down right in front of my window, screeching like a wounded cat. By the time I rushed out to help, the rain had done the rest. It’s a miracle no one else was around to see, honestly. So, you understand Lou, this was _not_ something I signed up for.” 

Lou absorbed this information, her temper still hot, a knot swelling in her throat. “Family? Blood magic?” 

“I’m getting to all that. So, we determined that the best way to keep everything calm was to hide her in plain sight, hence the mermaid bar. I’d known Stevie for years, so I called in a favor, making sure Harriet could swim alone. I thought it rather brilliant, really, as there was absolutely nowhere else she could conceivably transform without someone finding out.” 

“Not the ocean?” Lou interrupted, confused.

“ _Especially_ not the ocean. Her mom can sense when she’s there, so that was a no go. And because we figured that she had to transform pretty regularly, I really thought I’d cooked up a fail-safe plan. Until you, that is.” 

Harry nuzzled her head to Lou’s shoulder as if in apology for Nicky’s words. 

“I never even noticed that you didn’t carry a tail with you,” Lou mused, a thousand puzzle pieces still clicking together in her mind. 

“Ya, you’re not the brightest, but whatever, continuing on,” Nicky sighed, “In order for—”

“ _Sent_ her? Why was she sent here? Were you banished or something, baby?” Lou took her fiance’s hand, worried because of Harry’s silence and the way her limbs had gone limp. 

“Lou.” Nicky spoke a bit gentler this time. “This is quite fucked up, so I need you to listen without interrupting, because my patience is on a tightrope as it is.” 

Lou bristled but nodded slowly.

“Harriet’s mom sent her here to get knocked up.” 

Harry burst into laughter at this, not happy laughter, but bitter, brittle heaves, her curls shaking as she folded tighter into Lou. “That’s the best way you’ve ever put it, I think.” 

“You can make it sound like an intricate mating ritual thing all you want, but that’s what it is. In essence. Harry’s society, shall we say, is lucky enough to be devoid of men. There _are_ no mermen. When they reach maturity and need to mate, they pull a sea-turtle and crawl up to shore and use their wiley magic to seduce a dude for a night and make a little mer-spawn.” 

Lou blinked in dawning understanding. “But you don’t like men,” she muttered, half under her breath. 

“Ya, so that’s what presented the problem. Harriet here got a bad case of dick dislike, went back home to mommy with excuses and stories of how the human _women_ were actually much more her style, and got sent back in no uncertain terms until she manages to make a little heir to the throne.” 

“ _What_?” Lou jolted. 

“Right, forgot that part, Harry’s the royal princess of their mer-kingdom-thing.”

Lou stared at Harry, remembering how lovely she looked with a crown. “You’re the heir to the throne?” 

“We, um,” Harry pushed a curl behind her ear, “We only have one egg, in our whole lives. My sister isn’t my blood sister, so it has to be me that carries on the line.” 

“Obviously,” Lou breathed, scrambling to understand, “I’m not well-versed in mermaid politics, but you’ve never tried, like, democracy or anything?” 

Nicky laughed this time, the smoke puffing out of her mouth in short bursts. “See, _this_ is where the blood magic comes in. Their home, their kingdom, is alive. It’s made of corals and reefs that are bound to the royal bloodline. Don’t ask me how it works, only apparently it _does_. As long as someone with royal blood rules the kingdom, the mermaids are safe from all the scary sea shit.” 

“You forgot the sirens.” 

“Yes, well, she’s looking about to faint anyway, shall I just add on one more mechanism of death?”

“ _Sirens_? As in the Greek myth?” 

“Not so mythic, turns out. There’s two around this corner of the world, and of fucking course they got wind of Harriet’s rebellious streak. They’d love nothing more than to end the blood line for good. Access to all the mermaid treasures and all that. We had the pleasure of meeting them at the club, though we’d have never known it if Niallie hadn’t opened that skylight.” 

“They can hide their true forms when they want, but not in moonlight,” Harry supplied. 

“I see.” Lou did not see, but she fought the urge to ask endless questions, deciding instead on the most pressing one. “So Harriet is in grave danger. From Sirens. But this doesn’t explain why you couldn’t tell me.” 

“Ah, well annoyingly the sirens are the least problematic means of death. Mermaids will kill anyone who finds out they exist.” 

A chill ran up Lou’s spine. 

“Which,” Nicky continued, “I don’t really blame them for, honestly. Like, they’ve been around a while, they’ve seen the shit humans do. If I were protecting an ancient mythological civilization, hey, I would kill every human that found out too.”

“That’s why, Lou.” Harry cuddled closer. “I’ve been so scared my family will find me, and if they find me with you, and you _know_ …” 

Lou felt the weight of this fear settle on her chest, but it wasn’t unbearable. It didn’t make her feel even the slightest resentment or blame, unlike Nicky, and perhaps that was because her love for Harry defeated even the threat of death. 

“Well now I do.” Lou kissed the mermaid’s forehead, her anger finally abated. She felt only slightly guilty for her previous feelings towards the medium. “You should have let her tell me, Nicky. You should have let me decide for myself and not tried to protect me.” 

Nicky didn’t blink as she said, “I thought there would be no need. How was I supposed to know you’d fall in love with her?” 

Harry began to giggle first and soon Lou caught it, her belly hurting with the relief of it all, the broken tension. “You really _are_ the worst fortune teller I’ve ever heard of.” 

Nicky stomped up and re-opened her store front, muttering in low tones something Lou couldn’t quite hear. 

“I’m still hungry, babe, what do you say to brunch before I head to work?” 

Harry let out a breath she’d been holding for a long time. Maybe for months. “Brunch?” 

Nicky informed them that the little mom and pop diner down the street served good omelets, so they left her dim shop for the bright sunshine, holding hands as they made their way down the sidewalk. 

As they found a table, ordered, and sipped on glasses of orange juice, Lou processed the morning’s news as best she could. Harry remained silent, perhaps knowing that Lou was still in shock, still sorting out all the details. Every single one of Harry’s little oddities had taken on new meaning: the dandelions, the rainboots, the rom coms, _pussy_. Of course, _of course_. This body was new to her, _pussy_ was new to her. Lou smiled at her fiance as Harry nibbled the crispy edge of her eggs. 

“Harry?” 

“Ya?” She looked up, but with some trepidation still, as if waiting for the other shoe to drop. That wouldn’t do. 

“We’re getting married tomorrow,” Lou announced, shoving a large bite in her mouth. “It’s a Saturday, and the courthouse is right downtown, and it shouldn’t be too busy. Might have to wait in line an hour or so, but I think—”

Harry rounded the table in one swift motion and jumped into Lou’s lap, kissing her without a single regard to decorum, smack in the middle of the bustling diner. Lou heard two whoops and some clapping, but Harry’s insistent mouth kept her too preoccupied to register anything else. 

*

Lou’s work day passed like a daydream. Perhaps she looked a bit closer at every patron entering _The Bulkhead_ , but other than that, the knowledge that death could find her at any time really had far less effect than she’d have imagined. 

When she returned back to home that night Harry had made spaghetti (the only dish she had successfully learned to cook) and they ate on the couch while watching reruns of The Office, the picture of normalcy to anyone looking through Niallie’s front window. 

“Can we stop by the flower market before the courthouse, Lou?” Harry interrupted the show. 

“‘Course, babe.” 

“I want to get married with flowers in my hair.” 

Lou tried not to explode into squishy bits. “Ya? And what else, baby, you want a pretty dress or shoes or something?” 

“Mmm, I was thinking the blue one that you proposed to me in, if it’s still there.”

“I’m sure it’s there.” Lou kissed her knuckles. “I’ll probably wear slacks, a nice shirt? Maybe suspenders.” 

“Then I can snap them,” Harry teased, kissing the tip of Lou’s nose. 

“I’ll tickle you if you do.” 

“I’ll tickle you right back, then,” Harry declared, proud of her retort. 

“Babe, I’m not ticklish, you forget.” 

“Ya you are. Here.” Harry cupped her hand to Lou’s belly and slid it down, breaching the waistband of her shorts and the flimsy elastic of her underwear. “I’ll tickle you here until you’re begging for mercy, little human.” 

Well _fuck_ that was new. Lou shivered as Harry found her wet and dug in. 

What they started on the sofa they ended in the bedroom. Lou maintained gratitude that Niallie wasn’t home, as both of them made rather obnoxious sounds for the better part of the evening. But they were getting married in the morning. What better time to fuck each other’s tits off? 

Though Harry had begun her time in human form quite inexperienced in the art of pussy, she had now graduated with high honors. Lou relished reaping the benefits of her countless hours of study, coming more times than her hazed-out mind could count. She took care of Harry too, of course, opening the mermaid with her tongue, her fingers, her knuckles, sucking on her swollen clit, nursing from her still-leaking breasts, leaving her a sweaty, writhing mess atop their once-crisp white bed sheets. They were both utterly knackered by the time they’d had their fill, by the time Lou took Harry against her sweaty body and fell asleep to the scent of curls and cum and ocean, because Harry always smelled a little like ocean, and now that made perfect sense.

 

Lou awoke the next morning to cold thighs. It took her several moments before she realized the sensation wasn’t so much _cold_ , as _wet_. Still groggy with the half-remembered fever dream of their passions, she opened her eyes and blinked into the early morning sun, aware of Harry beside her, rolled onto her back, motionless, probably still asleep. 

Not wanting to wake her bride, but desperate to feel her skin once more, Lou dusted soft kisses up Harry’s arm, eventually stopping and raising her head to gaze on the mermaid’s peaceful face. But to her surprise she found Harry very much awake, her green eyes staring vacantly up at the ceiling, her hands knotted around the sheet that she held, clenched, at her chest. She wasn’t blinking. 

“Morning, sweetheart,” Lou said, wondering again at the wet, thinking perhaps they’d sweat through their nightclothes. But no. As she scooted closer into Harry’s space, the wet got worse. “Baby, did something spill last night and I don’t remember?”

Harry whimpered and her lower lip trembled. She didn’t look away from the ceiling. 

“Baby? Is something wrong? Harry? Sweetheart?” Lou kissed her forehead, checking her temperature, her pulse. She immediately pulled away in concern, for Harry’s skin felt feverish, and now that Lou looked properly, it also seemed far too pale. Harry still didn’t speak. Not knowing how else to get answers, Lou took the sheet from her bride’s fisted hands and pulled it down, off their bodies. 

The bed was soaked in a halo around Harry’s hips. Her nakedness seemed fragile somehow, as if it had betrayed her and she had banished it from her wardrobe, unable to wear bare skin anymore. Her legs rested loosely, looking like they had given up on life, on their new, young purpose. Lou started to ask what had happened, but then she saw it, nearly camouflaged against the white bedsheets, shell-like, oval and tapered to a slight thinness on one end. It lay between Harry’s thighs, small as a kumquat, sticky with her slick, polished, smooth, reflecting like mother of pearl, white but with all the hues of a rainbow, itself giving off some strange type of glow. 

“ _God_.” Lou felt tears fill her eyes. “That’s not… Harry…” 

“It’s all real now,” Harry said, her tone flat, void. “I’ve killed them all, every single one of my friends and family.” 

“No, no, Harry, please—”

“They trusted me, they loved me, and I betrayed them. Gemma’s right, I’m a selfish idiot. And it’s too late for me to change now, to make it right. It’s over. It’s final. I thought this wouldn’t happen if I was careful, if I kept transforming, but it has. I’ve lost it. I’m barren now, Lou.” Harry didn’t cry, but Lou wished she would. The calm of her voice sounded more disturbing. “All because I decided that romance was beautiful. I decided that I could have love too, with you. Mom was right to laugh at me.” 

A blinding pressure, a silence, started to build up behind Lou’s eardrums, and she wanted to stop it condensing into a storm, wanted to make Harry stop spiraling, but time had cruelly slipped her out of its stream, condemning her to only watch as everything unraveled. 

“It will never live now, Lou. that’s my fault. There will never be anyone else with royal blood. I’ve doomed my entire kingdom.” 

Her lips too numb to speak, Lou looked again at the little egg. It was so perfect, so beautiful. Without hesitation she reached down and picked it up, cradling it in her palm. Harry quickly turned over, hiding her face in the pillow. 

“Don’t show me, I can’t see it, I can’t look at it,” and she began to cry then, her chest pulsing.

The little egg weighed heavily in Lou’s hand. She could give her lover this one mercy. “You don’t have to look, Harry. I can take care of it.” 

“Bury—plant it in a garden somewhere, Lou?” Harry sobbed, her whole back rounded in agony. “One with every kind of beautiful flower?” 

“I promise.” Lou closed her other hand over the egg as Harry rolled herself into a sitting position, her eyes horribly red and wet. 

“I know you will. You’re the most loyal, Lou, the most steady. My earth. You would never break a promise. You would never be like me.” 

Something worse than fear began to pound at Lou’s heart. “You haven’t broken any promises, my love.” 

Harry’s green eyes caught hers, and for a moment their terrible beauty drew Lou’s gaze from the sight of Harry pulling off her ring. She placed it on the wet bed sheets between them, silver and glistening and worthless, so worthless now, just like the egg. 

“I have to go back. When my mom dies there’s only me. Maybe I can find another way, maybe I can break the spell. I have to try. Even if I can’t, I have to face what I’ve done, face my sisters and perform my duties for as long as I am able. I owe that to them.” 

Lou tightened her grip on the egg. It alone grounded her to the bed. 

“Please,” the word sounded just as pitiful in the air as it did inside her head, “Please don’t leave me.” 

Harry bent and kissed the knuckles of Lou’s clasped hands. “I will be tortured every day for the rest of my life knowing that I’ve made you suffer for my mistakes. I’ll never forgive myself, Lou. I will love you with every beat of my heart, always.” 

“Harry, _god_ , please! At least—at least _think_ about this, at least—”

“I can’t.” Harry looked to Lou’s shielding hands. “I can’t bear it.” She stood and methodically slipped on her shirt and leggings, her jaw set, her skin still so pale. 

“Harry I love you. With every cell of my body, I love you.” It was all Lou had left, and she now wondered if it would be enough. 

Harry gave her a smile, tears rushing freely down her cheeks. “And I love you with every cell of mine.” 

Lou watched her exit their bedroom and did nothing. She heard Harry rumpling with her boots in the threshold and still, she remained frozen to the wet bed. She did nothing as the front door opened and closed. 

That’s how Niallie and Nicky found her several hours later, doing nothing, naked and sobbing, clutching a discarded egg to her chest as if it could make up for the love she’d just lost.


	5. The Egg

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those who've been reading as a wip: rather important line of plot in chap 1's first sex scene that I dumbly left out before. Just fyi. I have fixed it now!! :)

“Has she eaten three solid meals today?” 

“Two and a half, which is an improvement.” 

Lou glared across the table at Niallie as she picked through the tomatoes in her salad. They’d ordered Chinese, but it had yet to be delivered. 

“Well I have exciting news,” Nicky hoisted her glass to toast, “I’ve officially got that billboard for another year.” 

“That’s great, shnooks,” Niallie congratulated her, clinking their drinks. 

Nicky held her water up to Lou. “No happiness for others?” 

“I hate that thing. You should have gotten rid of it years ago, would have saved me a lot of trouble.” 

“Aaaaand here we go. Can we not have even one dinner without you bringing it up? It’s been a month, Lou. We’re sick of it, you’re sick of it, can we just eat in peace?” 

Niallie put a hand on Nicky’s arm. “Shnooks.”

Nicky wasn’t _wrong_ , though. Lou had most definitely been wallowing in misery and self pity, making her own life almost unbearable and the lives of those around her _at the very least_ extremely unpleasant. But one broken, dismembered heart was enough for a lifetime. Two? And the second one much worse _by far_? 

_You really fucked me up, mermaid girl._

So Lou hadn’t handled it well. She’d cried her eyes out for days, managing to appear for work, but as a wraith of her former self. Customers that suffered under her sadness had left her pity tips, and Stevie soon learned to assign her the front half of the restaurant, farthest away from the tank. Lou didn’t care that people stared at the dark circles under her eyes or her sallow mouth. She felt like perhaps she would never care about anything ever again, and most definitely she’d never care about any _one_ ever again. She dreamt of Harry every night without fail, and many mornings she would wake up convinced that her lover’s soft body lay against hers, and opening her eyes would result in fresh heartbreak. Nothing took away the wrenching pain in her gut, not marathons of movies or rock music played at high volume from in-ear headphones or the carepackage her mom and little siblings had sent upon Niallie’s request, stuffed full of chocolate and handwritten letters and bits of home. 

_You didn’t even leave me my home. I’d started to think of it not as my forests and cornfields and family, but as you. You were my home, and now I’m like those shell-less things in your ocean, drifting, vulnerable._

The only thing that even dulled the edge of her heartbreak was Harry’s egg. She’d not buried it, of course, though she hid this fact from Nicky. _How could you expect me to keep such a promise?_ Lou could never have fallen to her knees in one of those bright city gardens and scraped back bark chips and dirt and laid the little thing in the warm, sun-soaked earth and left it to decompose with the flowers, to become food for them, to take care of _them_. No. She needed it for herself. And in her state of anguish, Lou recognized this as delusional. She knew it was crazy to stitch a pocket into the center of her bra, to keep the egg against her chest, her heart, every second of every day, as if it were a talisman. Still, Lou planned to continue binding the egg to her skin until it rotted away, until it putrefied and stank and turned into a mushy, leaky nothing. And even then she might not let it go. 

_Delusional. That’s what I’ve turned into without you._. 

Life had gone on, despite Lou’s indifference; the sun still shone, the waves still broke against the shore. Nicky and Niallie had officially become girlfriends three weeks after Harry left, and Lou suspected they only waited that long out of consideration for her... 

Reminding herself to try and be marginally more tolerable, Lou agreed to watch netflix with her friends when their takeout finally arrived. Predictably, Nicky put on her favorite show, Seinfeld. Lou stuffed bites of rice and Chow Mein into her mouth, tasting none of it, as she stared blankly at the screen; she’d hated the show even before her latest wounding. 

“This is literally like a glimpse into your inner psychology, Nicky,” Lou observed during one particularly caustic scene. 

“You’re welcome.” 

“Wasn’t a compliment.” 

Niallie sighed. “Play nice you two, there’s only one serving of sweet and sour left, so we’ll have to share.” 

“Oh fuck that,” Lou reached out to grab the container, covetous of the sauce-soaked pinnaple, but she stopped dead in her tracks when something wet dripped down her ribs. 

_No. Please, no…_

“Lou?” Niallie looked at her in concern. 

“Bathroom,” Lou managed, bolting up, running down the hall, slamming the door behind her. She collapsed to the floor, her heart in her throat, dreading the possibility of what could be happening. She gathered together what strength she had and reached down her shirt to withdraw the little egg. As she lifted it into the light, a chalky white secretion coated her hand. The shiny gleam of the tiny object had long disappeared, replaced by a weepy wetness. Lou accepted that it was dissolving… the egg was dissolving in her palms, dripping through her fingers to the cold bathroom tile, disappearing from her life, just like Harry had. 

_Oh baby, when will you stop hurting me?_

Silently, Lou began to cry, her eyes trained on the egg as it liquified, unable to look away from the curtain call of Harry’s presence in her life. In misery she rubbed along its surface, watching as every place she touched thinned and fell away. 

_Did you glance at it even once, baby? Did you see it gleaming from the corner of your eye? It was so perfect, so pretty. Just like you. I’ve had nightmares, you know, about how scared you must have been that night. You’d not been sleeping well for a while so I just thought… You could have woken me, Harry. Why didn’t you? Did it hurt, when it came? Or did the wetness wake you, too? It haunts me that you knew, baby, that you felt it pushing out of you and couldn’t stop it, couldn’t put it back, that you just had to accept that this was the end, and you did that by yourself, you didn’t wake me, Harry, you didn’t fucking wake me up…_

Lou lost track of time. When the egg lapsed from its oval shape and shed its taper, going skinny and jagged, she knew the end wouldn’t be long in coming. With her pinky she stroked at a little spot that had already lost nearly all of its white and turned a dark blue. It felt warm, the blue bit. More white fell away and the blue grew, and Lou wondered how long the egg had been moldy and rotten inside, how long she’d kept this decaying treasure past its shelf-life. She kept rubbing, eager for it to be over now, not sure how much longer she could stand the pain. 

_I’ve loved it for you, Harry. Even though it’s only ever been an empty shell, I’ve loved the promise of what it could have been. I’ve held it, every night, kissed it, mourned it for you. I know you couldn’t look, so I’ve etched it in my memory. I’ll hold it there forever, baby, I’ll remember so you don’t have to carry this hurt inside your heart. It’s safe with me. I’ll guard it always, always._

The blue didn’t rub away. It only became more distinct, and soon Lou’s finger skated over something like fish skin, but shiny and bright, reflecting the bathroom lights as Lou rid it of its white coating. Her heart lurched, backed up, lurched again. The air in her lungs stuck there as the still-white part of the egg _moved_ , splintering off from itself, a sprout-like thing…

A very teensy _hand_ reached out towards her pinkey. 

Lou’s mouth fell open in silent wonder; with trembling fingers she continued to brush gently. More white fell away bit by bit until a miniature, fully-formed infant mermaid lay in Lou’s palm, no bigger than a doll house baby, her tail flicking side to side, brushing against Lou’s skin like butterfly wings, like how her goldfish used to flip around when she would change his water as a little girl and catch him in her small hand for a split second… 

_Water_. 

“NICKY! Fuck,” Lou scrambled off the floor, her heart about to explode, barely managing to open the bathroom door and make it down the hall as she screamed, “GET ME A BOWL OF WATER _NOW_!” 

The other two girls arrived in the kitchen a split second after Lou, panicked looks on their faces. 

“Lou what the _fuck_?” .

“Water.” She directed this at Nicky, hoping the medium could understood her even though her tongue had gone dry and her body had started to churn. But Nicky just stared, shocked, speechless, at Harry’s baby lying in her hand. 

“Would you two fucking hurry? Here,” Niallie placed a bowl she’d somehow already filled on the table and gently guided Lou’s hand into it. “Nicky, you need to google how much salt is in four cups of seawater.” 

“What?”

“Get your _phone out_ , Nicky. Lou, stay steady, don’t drop her.” Niallie hurried to the cupboard as Nicky frantically typed on her screen. 

_This isn’t real, this can’t be happening, can it? Harry? This isn’t possible…_

“There’s like, thirty-five grams of salt in a thousand of water. Is that a thousand of water?”

The baby flicked her tail abruptly and little droplets splattered Lou’s nose. 

“It’s four cups. So… point fourteen grams. Convert point fourteen grams to teaspoons.” 

“O—okay,” Nicky cursed several times as her fingers missed the right keys. “It’s roughly six and a half.” 

“Good. Alright. I’m gonna add this a little at a time, Nicky, grab that spoon over there, you need to stir.” 

Niallie began doling the salt out pinch by pinch, measuring teaspoon after teaspoon as Nicky stirred, her fingers shaking around the spoon like a leaf. Lou submerged her other hand and cupped the infant mermaid securely, shielding her from the incoming granules and Nicky’s unsteady utensil. 

_Harry she’s so small… should she be this small? My thumb could cover her whole body. Are her eyes supposed to be closed? Her tail is blue, I didn’t know there could be different colors, why did I never ask you, why did I never wonder?_

When the salt had been dissolved, Niallie and Nicky heaved near-simultaneous sighs of relief.

“That won’t last long,” Niallie stated, her voice hoarse. “There’s very little oxygen in that small amount of water. We’re going to have to get an aquarium, and a bubbly pump thing, and probably a whole bunch of seawater from the pet store because who knows how many minerals are missing in table salt.” 

Nicky gawked at her girlfriend, open-mouthed. “You _knew_.” 

“Of course I knew. I woke up early the day you told Lou and listened to the whole thing.” 

“I closed the door.” 

“I have excellent ears.” 

“Oh my god.” Lou’s arms had begun to ache, but she didn’t care. She would hold Harry’s baby until the sun burned out. “Oh my _god_.”

“Ya.” Nicky pulled out a chair and sat, Seinfeld filling in the silence around them. “For once, I’m forced to agree.” 

*

Nicky’s trip to the aquarium resulted in a thirty gallon tank, multiple jugs of sea water, and an oxygen pump. Niallie suggested they place everything in the center of the living room, out of direct sunlight. Lou also welcomed Niallie’s other idea of cutting a crib out from a craft-store sea sponge; though she was loathe for the baby mermaid to sleep in anything put her palm, she knew she couldn’t hold her pruned, cramping hands under water all day and night. Though these solutions solved their immediate problems, no one had yet broached the issue of what they would feed the infant, or indeed _how_ they would feed her, seeing as she obviously couldn’t transform yet or breath outside the water. 

“They just don’t make functioning bottles that small,” Nicky declared unhelpfully as they all sat cross-legged on the carpet, encircling the tank. 

“Then we’ll have to use a syringe, one with a very small hole,” Lou concluded. 

“And we’ll fill it with?” 

_Your milk. How did you not understand, Harry? Did you just think it a symptom of being on land too long, just like losing your egg?_

“I say we try formula. Harriet could eat human food just fine.” 

“Yes, shnooks, but she was always in her human body.”

“We have to try something.” Lou felt it in her gut and made the call. “We’re trying formula.” 

“Or,” Niallie placed her hand on Lou’s knee, comforting, as if she anticipated an unsavory reaction. “Lou, maybe we shouldn’t do this. We don’t know the first thing about infant mermaids. Maybe we should try to take her home.” 

Niallie’s preemptive hand of calm failed to do its job. “And just how,” Lou snapped at the blonde girl, “Do you expect me to do that? Wade out into the ocean with her in a little baggie? Then let her out so Harry can ‘sense’ her, then, what? Cup my hands around her for hours against the tide and fucking _sharks_ and fish and other swimmers and the bloody lifeguards? She’s the size of a peanut.” 

Nicky stood, her hips cracking as she did. “Lou’s right. That option is our last resort at this point.” Nicky ran a hand through her short hair. “Guess I’m back to the store again.” 

Fortunately Lou’s instincts proved correct. When Nicky returned, they all three carefully lifted the sea-sponge crib near the surface and nudged the syringe’s tip to the infant’s mouth until she instinctively latched on and began to suck. She drank no more than a thimble-full, but seemed content enough. 

The girls crashed in the living room that night, none of them wanting to leave the tiny creature, fearful still that something could go wrong. They’d planned on sleeping in shifts and taking turns with feedings, but Lou eventually told her friends to just get all the rest they could, because no matter how hard she tried, Lou herself couldn’t sleep. She could hardly even look away from the baby mermaid and her shiny tail. 

Lou sat holding her knees facing the tank, its dim overhead light illuminating only her knuckles and the tips of her nose and chin. Every time the baby squirmed a little sparkle would flit through the water to dapple the carpet, and Lou let these moments hypnotize her, calm her whirring mind into a semblance of sensibility.

 _If you could only see her, Harry. She’s too perfect to describe. I don’t even want to close my eyes, I’m scared she’ll disappear. I’m so scared your baby will disappear..._

Tightening her grip on her knees, Lou wept in silence; she didn’t want to disturb her friends but couldn’t physically choke back the emotions that were churning through her anymore, beating her out like a husk. She couldn’t process this, didn’t understand why this incredible miracle would make her weep, would make her heart soar to the stars yet simultaneously pain her. She didn’t understand how she could feel closer to Harry than she had since the eve of their wedding, yet also like Harry had somehow just betrayed her. As dawn leaked into the darkness, Niallie woke. Seeing Lou hunched in a ball of tears, she crawled over and laid her head on her friend’s shoulder. 

“Hey. You okay, Lou?” 

“M’not sure.” 

“Ya, I wouldn’t be either. This is surreal.” 

The baby fluttered her tail and Lou’s heart did a somersault. More sparkles danced along the carpet. 

“You know what I think?” Niallie whispered.

“I’m sure you’ll tell me.” 

“I think you should name her.” 

Lou’s heart thumped roughly, painfully. “I—I have no right to.”

Finally Lou’s brain had caught up to her heart, and she knew why she’d begun to cry. The very existence of Harry’s baby was a betrayal, _had_ to be a betrayal, at the very least had to be part of a story that Harry had never shared with her, had never trusted her with. And though this knowledge weighed in her stomach like melon rinds, she loved the baby. Without a shred of doubt she loved Harry’s baby more than she’d ever loved anyone ever before, or perhaps loved the infant with a different _kind_ of love than she’d ever loved with before. 

“That’s nonsense.”

It hurt to say, but Lou said it anyway. “I’m not her mother, Niallie. I’m not her father, either.” 

Niallie scooted closer and wrapped Lou in a hug. “We don’t know the whole story.” 

“We know enough.” 

“No, we don’t. Harry would never have left if there was even the most remote possibility her egg held a child. You know that’s true, Lou. Something strange has happened.” 

“Perhaps.” 

“Name her,” Niallie encouraged. “Harry wouldn’t want her nameless.” 

_You left me with nothing and now I have everything. Actually, Harry? I almost want to name her. I almost want to pretend she’s mine, that I have some right to keep her from you for as long as I can, keep her with me, because I want to love her, Harry, I want it so much I think it could kill me._

Lou reached into the tank and stroked the tip of the little mermaid’s tail. Her tiny face crinkled up in a toothless yawn. Her eyes still hadn’t opened. 

“I’ve always liked Darci,” Lou whispered, remembering the power of a name, knowing that with this bestowal she bound herself to the small life before her, and that such an action could cripple her already broken heart. 

“Then let’s call her that. Hello little Darci, I’m your Aunt Niallie. You can’t see me yet, but when you do I think you’ll agree that I’m the most sexy of your moms.” 

Despite the ache in her chest Lou smacked her friend playfully. “Keep your baby blues closed as long as you can, my love, that’s motivation for you.” 

The term of endearment slipped out subconsciously, the first of many, the weight of each supporting a reality that Lou knew, deep in her heart, was too impossible to exist. 

 

*

As it turned out, Darci did have blue eyes. 

A month had passed, and the girls were exhausted, as was to be expected when tending to a newborn, especially one with rather specific needs. Darci had done well on the formula, growing to a total of six inches. She’d started to get a bit of pudge on her arms and tummy and cheeks, and she’d begun to show a little personality, responding with tail-slaps and wiggles when they sang or talked to her and what could only be called underwater giggling when they tickled her fin. 

Lou had been singing an old nursery rhyme about plums one afternoon when the baby let up a burst of bubbles, calling Lou’s attention to her face. Like a rose bud unfurling, Darci’s delicate eyelids opened for the first time. 

The water distorted their perfection, but there was no mistaking the color. Lou choked down a cry as very uniquely-tinted blue eyes started back at her. 

“Nicky,” Lou called out softly, not wanting to startle the baby, “Nicky come here, quickly! She opened her eyes.” 

Nicky hurried in from the kitchen, noticing in an instant the trait that Lou still couldn’t comprehend. 

“Holy fuck. Those are your eyes, Lou.” 

“Lots of people have blue eyes.”

“Not blue eyes like _that_.” 

Niallie walked through the door then, home with groceries. “Hey guys.” 

“She’s got Lou’s eyes.” 

“What?” Niallie dropped her bags and skidded to her knees beside her girlfriend. “No way.” 

“We’re just imagining it, we have to be—” 

“Louanna, I’ve been staring at your peepers for the better part of fifteen years. Those are _your_ eyes. Monet couldn’t have matched the color more perfectly.” 

Lou bit her lip, something like hope kicking against her lungs. “Maybe… maybe all mermaids have blue eyes when they’re babies.” 

Nicky sniffed and patted Lou’s shoulder. “Maybe. We’ll just have to wait and see.” 

There wasn’t much else the girls could do besides wait and see, wait and watch. Darci continued to grow, and as she did they had to make her a new spong-crib and get an actual baby bottle and learn to keep her entertained, for she slept less and less. Lou found that Darci liked _her_ entertainments best of all; she loved when Lou brought in pretty shells or stones or flowers to show her. Though she never cried, she would become fussy and swish her tail and cause her tank water to splash out on the carpet, or on Lou, whichever was nearer. At these times Lou would pop in a documentary DVD about ocean life and sing to Darci while holding her little hand; if the other girls were unfortunate enough to be on duty during one of the infant’s episodes, they usually ended up soaked and annoyed, lacking Lou’s magic touch. 

Darci’s eyes remained blue. With every day that passed Lou felt a transfer happen inside of her, a shift, a mooring of her being to something—someone—else. Niallie and Nicky pretended not to notice when Lou would slip and greet Darci with, “How’s my baby girl this morning?” Yet they all three couldn’t deny the bond that Lou seemed to share with the girl. They didn’t discuss the impossibility of it all, but as the days tumbled one into another, Darci unequivocally became Lou’s baby. 

Three months after her chaotic entrance into their world, Darci resembled a small human newborn in size, and Niallie finally put into words what they’d all been thinking for some time. Lou couldn’t argue with her logic; if they lifted Darci to the surface of her tank every day, just letting the tip of her tail touch the open air, eventually, Niallie theorized, her tail would turn to toes. That would be the day she could breathe air. 

A week passed, and every day Darci’s shiny blue fin would flop happily in the air. She thought the test a great game and enjoyed splashing them profusely, much to Nicky’s annoyance. When they’d set her back on her sponge, she would press her little hands to the glass and stare out at them, as if wondering why only her fin was allowed outside. But then one day, as Lou held her steady and Niallie raised her tail and Nicky (wearing a rain poncho) dried off her fin with a washcloth, the delicate green fanning of Darci’s mermaid self melted away into perfect little toes. 

Niallie let the babe’s tail fall back into the water with a gasp. “Holy…”

Lou kept a firm hold under Darci’s head and back, paralyzed with awe, loud blood rampaging through her head. 

“You can bring her out, Lou,” Nicky croaked, her voice breaking. She swiped her arm under her nose but then cursed, having forgotten about the plastic covering her. 

“You want me to help, Lou?” 

“No, no, I… I’ll do it.” 

Lou gradually brought Darci to the surface; the babe only grew heavy in Lou’s hands as she broke into the air. Her big blue eyes, now able to be seen with crystal clarity, looked at Lou in confusion, and as the water dripped from her tail and dried away and two chubby legs appeared, Darci drew air into her lungs for the first time.

Of course she used this air to wail. Her screams seemed especially loud, as for the last three months she’d not made a single sound. Now her face was going red and her eyes leaked tears and she was crying wholeheartedly, perhaps making up for the time she’d lost. Lou held her close, kissed her soft head, tried to comfort her. 

“That’s a healthy baby if I ever saw one,” Nicky said, tears falling down her face as she handed Lou a soft blanket. 

“Ya?” Lou could hardly speak; her chest had seized up and something heavy and warm had dropped into her stomach. She desperately wanted to join Darci in having a long, long cry. 

Eventually Darci calmed, and when she did she became very curious about the person holding her. She stared at Lou, blue eyes meeting blue, her little arms and legs going perfectly still as she evaluated being cuddled. Deciding she liked it, Darci gave a bigger smile than she’d ever given and revealed, for the first time, a set of dimples. Lou lost her composure then and let her tears fall, let them snake down her cheeks and neck and make her shirt more wet than it already was. Something in her broken heart re-formed. 

_I don’t understand how, Harry, but this baby is mine too, I know she is._

Lou could feel it in between her bones, like the truth of it was sticking her together, like before this revelation she had been a loose, incorporeal being. 

“Welcome to the human world, my love,” Lou whispered, relishing Darci’s weight in her arms, kissing her baby’s soft cheek, noting how she smelled like sleep and baby and sea. 

“We did it girls,” Niallie declared, “We raised a mermaid baby.” 

Nicky wrapped her girlfriend in a hug and kissed her. “Now all that’s left is to get her home.” 

*

Every day that an excuse presented itself, Lou would cry in relief, locking herself in the bathroom for a few minutes as she tried to steady the horrendous anguish in her heart, to soothe it back in its cage with a chant of _not today_. The tides were too harsh or a storm had blown in or the tourists were too many or a shark had been spotted; nothing was too insignificant to claim. Though Nicky more than Niallie doggedly reminded Lou of Darci’s imminent need to make acquaintance with the ocean, she too contributed to the constant list of reasons why they should wait. 

Lou knew they couldn’t stall forever, though. On a Sunday night the weather forecast played out from the tv as the girls sat in the living room, Nicky and Niallie spooning, Lou feeding Darci her bottle. 

“Sunny tomorrow, Lou. No high winds, calm tide, no one should be around on a Monday.” 

“Mmm.” Lou didn’t look up.

“I’ve worked out a plan, Lou. Nicky and I have, I mean. Kindof a distraction scene so you can get out to the sandbar like we talked about. Okay?” 

“Are you sure it will work?” 

Nicky uncurled herself from her girlfriend’s embrace and sat up. “This isn’t goodbye. You don’t honestly believe that Harriet is going to just snatch her away and never let you see her again? The Harriet that was going to _marry_ you and didn’t because she had no heir? This changes everything. I know she broke your heart but you need to have a little faith in her.” 

Lou readjusted Darci in her arms. “She may not have a choice. Her family isn’t particularly fond of humans, you remember.” 

Nicky’s tone was spiked. “Ya know, you’re right, Lou. They could kill you when you take her out to them tomorrow. So let’s keep Darci here with us, on land, let’s let Harriet torture herself every day for the rest of her life thinking her daughter can’t ever exist. Let’s keep Darci from ever going back to her people, her home.” 

A familiar twang of guilt plucked at Lou’s heart. _Home_. The sea. The ocean. A place Lou could never follow. She hated fate for demanding she give up her little child to the very waves that took her greatest love, that she should be left with nothing and no one. 

_Nicky’s right. She’s not human._

But as Darci closed her eyes and fell asleep against Lou’s chest she did look so very, very human, and for just a second that was enough to blur away the knowledge of what tomorrow would hold. 

*

When Lou woke the next morning, she wasn’t ready. She realized she would never be ready. 

While they drove to the beach Nicky and Niallie went over their detailed plan. 

“You’ll swim straight out from the buoys, keeping the guard shack in sight, right? And the sandbar directly in front of it. From the tide level this morning it should be about knee deep, okay?” 

“Ya.” Lou left off futzing with Darci’s hastily purchased car seat and snapped her own shoulder strap into place, noting how her pubes stuck out around her swimsuit’s crotch. It had been so long since she’d donned any swimwear at all. 

“Lou?” Niallie tried again, “I can come with you, if you need.” 

Lou was searching for distractions. The bags she felt under her eyes provided yet another. When had that started? And when, for that matter, had she begun to feel constantly on the verge of tears? 

“I have to do this alone.” 

As they pulled into the beachside parking lot and exited Niallie’s car, Nicky surprised Lou immensely by engulfing her in a tight hug. “But you’re not alone, you do know that, right? Whatever happens. We’re here with you. Remember that.” 

Niallie and Nicky unloaded beach towels, games, and a picnic basket, decoys in case any questions were asked. Though Darci looked like a normal baby, no person in their right mind would take a newborn infant into the ocean, much less not return with said infant, so they hoped to disguise her presence as much as possible. Lou held her snuggly, bundled in a doggie-print towel, and though she wasn’t asleep she made not a sound, perhaps knowing their plan needed her silence. 

The beach sand felt unusually hot and rough under Lou’s feet, though the sun had only been warming it for a few short hours. True to the forecast, the tide seemed calm, only gentle little waves crashing to shore, bringing with them delicate seashells and pebbled rocks. The girls set up camp solemnly. Lou bounced Darci as she glanced around, thankful that besides a few old men sunning themselves (in inappropriate swimwear) and a few avid joggers, few people occupied the beach. 

“We’ll watch the stuff if you wanna take a dip, Lou,” Niallie said loud enough for their closest neighbor to hear as she settled down on a towel. 

“Ya. Hold this for a second, I need to put on some sunscreen.” She handed them the baby and tried not to look as they said their whispered goodbyes. Both women were silently crying. 

When she cradled the doggie-print towel once more, she began to walk towards the water. Every step seemed to require ten times her strength. Her heart seized up as her toes touched the cool surf and she nearly turned back, in fact she probably would have if Darci hadn’t begun to squirm and make gurgly noises and open her tiny mouth in a dimpled smile. 

“You hear those waves, huh?” Lou cooed at her, somehow finding the strength to walk forwards. Darci let out a little screech of happiness. “Shhh, love, we don’t want to scare the humans.” 

Lou reached knee depth and kept going. Once the water began to lap around her hips, tepid, briney, mostly clear, she looked over her shoulder, making sure no one paid her any mind. As planned, Nicky and Niallie began their fake fight when Lou nodded her head. She turned back around right as the wind carried to her ears, “Just _once_ can we watch a show that isn’t fucking Seinfeld?” 

Lou unwrapped the doggie-print towel and loosed it to sink to a watery grave. Darci flailed her arms and reached for the water, and Lou dipped her down, keeping hold under the infant’s arms as best she could. 

Even though she’d seen it many times, the moment Darci’s legs turned to shiny blue scales still gave Lou goosebumps. The baby screeched happily and smacked her hands in the water, her tail beating against the wave swells. Lou found it much more difficult to hold on to her than she’d imagined, but still she managed it, her grip cemented by a strength rooted in her very bones. 

She walked until she could walk no more, until her toes began to lift from the bottom and water to lap into her mouth. 

“My love, don’t swim away, please,” Lou begged, mostly to herself, as she repositioned Darci against her chest with her right arm and began to doggie paddle with her left and kick her feet. The sandbar wasn’t far off now; Lou could see where the waves smalled around it ahead. Darci seemed amused by her attempts at water travel, but didn’t try to squirm away, instead gumming at Lou’s shoulder and giggling as laps of seawater peaked around her neck. 

Lou breathed a sigh of relief when they reached their destination, gratefully sitting in the clear, shallow water and repositioning Darci to let her wiggle and twist in the warm sun, her scales bouncing back the water and light, speckling Lou’s whole body in glitters. 

“Now we wait, love,” Lou whispered, fearing she could break her courage by talking too loud. She had promised herself she wouldn’t cry, at least not before Harry arrived, but she found it impossible not to. Her salty tears mingled with the ocean and, given enough time, Lou truly believed that she could double the sea’s volume. 

They didn’t have to wait long. 

A few minutes later Lou saw the water ripple from a dozen yards away, the creases headed towards them. Two female faces soon surfaced from the water and rested their elbows on the edge of the sandbar, their bodies falling away into the deeper water. Long hair framed their sharp cheekbones and their eyes glinted dark and lovely. Neither of them were Harry. 

“Hi,” Lou squeaked out, her jaw trembling. 

“Just how did you come by the heir to Throngongai?” The first mermaid asked, her head tilting to the side. 

“I’m… not sure, actually. I’ve brought her to see Harriet.” 

“Yes, we know,” the other one said, “Harriet sent us.” 

“She _sent_ you?” 

“You didn’t believe she would actually come herself, did you?” The mermaids exchanged pitying looks.

Lou swallowed. “I did, actually.” 

“You’re fortunate she managed to secure your life. Now, shall we get on with it?” The first mermaid reached out for Darci. 

Lou didn’t loosen her grip. “If I could just _see_ Harriet, I think… I think… _I know_ that Darci is _our_ baby. I love her too much to never see her again, please.” 

The mermaids tilted their heads simultaneously. The second one spoke. “We do not associate with humans, girl. You have no claim to the child. Be thankful for your life and guard your secrets.” 

“I _do_ , though. Harriet would understand. Please, I need to—” 

It happened while Lou blinked. Suddenly her arms were pinned behind her and Darci ripped away from her grasp. Hands linked ‘round her throat and when the spots in front of her eyes cleared she saw the first mermaid holding Darci securly. The second, she assumed, was wrangling her. 

“Sister, this one will never cease her yearning, now. She has guessed it. Though, it does bring me great pleasure than this mere human figured out what the darling princess could not.” 

Lou concentrated on staying calm, for her airways were half strangled and the least bit of struggle would close them forever. She kept her eyes on Darci. 

“Very well. But dispose of her far off, I want no trace of this reaching the realm.” 

At this information Lou gulped out, “Darci—Darci—” trying now to pull against the hands that choked her. 

“Should we allow her a last farewell? It would be a beautiful song. We could sing it during full moons, sister, as the waves touch barren shores, ‘a mother’s last farewell.’”

“As you wish.” The first mermaid pulled herself atop the sandbar, guiding Darci forwards, and that’s when Lou saw her legs. 

Struggle was pointless. She might as well have been bound by iron bars for all the love in the world couldn’t break her free. Lou at least tried to stop the flood of tears, to see her baby clearly in the few moments that were left her. She owed Darci that, did she not? A loving gaze, a soft voice, a final goodbye… 

“Can you imagine, sister, after centuries of trying, we will someday swim through the gates of Throngongai as its rightful masters, with our own heir to its wonders? No war, no blood, no mess, so very easy.” 

Lou felt sick. “Don’t hurt her…” 

“We shan’t. We are not cruel creatures, at heart, are we, sister? Even against our oldest enemies we show _some_ mercies.” 

The first siren pushed Darci forwards until Lou could reach out and stroke her soft cheek. Darci took her finger, unaware of their danger, relishing the water. 

“I’m so sorry, my love,” Lou whispered, her tears falling freely. “Forgive me.” 

“It is poetic, is it not, that the very tears that granted her life now mark your parting. That will make a fine verse for the end.” 

Lou had little mental capacity left for wonder, but she still felt a shiver run up her spine. “My—my tears?”

“Your princess forgot the Old Magic. But we did not. We have known she carried your egg since the dancing house. We have waited patiently for this day.” 

“Surely we have enough anguish for our song, sister. I now grow weary.” 

“Then be done with it.” 

In a flash the first siren rose into the air, and Lou saw the invisible wings that carried her aloft only by their shadow on the water. When Darci’s tail cleared the ocean she started to wail, but soon the wind ate her cries and the sky seemed as empty as before. 

Lou didn’t have time to contemplate her own death. The siren lifted her into the air as well, and Lou soon felt claws clutching her around the neck instead of fingers. The salt air blinded her, as did the sun, and she could sense little else besides the throbbing pain of her throat and the burn of something like a talon around her thigh. How long they journeyed she couldn’t tell, because time gave way to memory, to visions of Harry in the blue satin dress and a crown of wilted flowers, to Darci’s little dimples, to Darci’s happy smile, to Darci’s blue eyes, _her_ eyes, the eyes of her and Harry’s baby... 

The light seemed to dim, but Lou recognized this not as the setting sun, but her own fading consciousness. Just when oxygen seemed likely never to return to her lungs, the talons loosed and she was falling, plunging earth-ward like she’d tripped from a cliff with no bottom, only endless gravity. When Lou hit the water, the dimming lights went black.


	6. Throngongai

_Pressure_. 

A thousand weights pressed in on Lou’s body from all sides, crushing her, grinding her atoms. She opened her eyes but still saw only blackness. She tried to roll, intuitively knowing that at some angle light should appear, but her muscles remained as frozen as her lungs and she couldn’t tell if her blood had gone cold or been squeezed into immobility. 

In desperation she tried to at least crane her head, but the surface remained elusive; the depth of her landing had blotted out all light. 

She was dying. 

Only by clinging to the memory of Darci in her arms could Lou keep her eyes open and fight against the collapse of her lungs. She blinked away the bleary film that began to cloud her vision, willing the dark back into focus. As she did, something in her eye-line—a far off sparkle— _glinted_ , flickering like a breeze-blown candle. It grew bigger, sharper, closer, until it thudded into her. Solid warmth engulfed her mouth and forced it open, simultaneously filling her lungs with hot fire—burning, dense, heavy—and only after several seconds did Lou recognize this as _air_. Suddenly the pressure around her began to fall away and her cheeks and scalp and eyelids were yanked by drag and Lou understood that the solid warm _something_ was propelling her to the surface at a dizzying speed. 

As if punching through to a different universe, she surfaced. 

Though the sunlight blinded her and she coughed up half the ocean, Lou didn’t sink; arms were around her, holding her torso out of the sea. When her brain had once again filled with red blood, she looked to her savior, though she already knew. Of course she knew. 

Harry stared back, her green eyes filled with pain and a million questions, her too-pink lips parted around words she didn’t seem able to say. Lou had no strength for words either. She draped her arms around Harry’s neck and clung there, just breathing, just living. The waves bobbed around them for half an eternity before Harry spoke. 

“You okay, Lou?” 

Though Harry likely meant this question in reference to Lou’s near-drowning, her words touched a far deeper place. Lou didn’t answer, for ‘no’ seemed too tame a word to capture her emotions. Harry clutched her closer.

“Lou? I thought I sensed… but that’s _impossible_...” 

Knotting her fingers in Harry’s wet curls—longer now, thicker—Lou said, “You did. I was bringing her back to you.” 

Harry began to shake her head, a tiny motion at first, but it grew in adamancy as tears swelled her eyes. Lou pulled back a little, knowing she owed Harry the truth on her face. 

“Our baby,” she whispered. 

Harry continued to shake her head, dislodging her tears. “Don’t—don’t mock my dreams, Lou, it hurts—”

“It _hurts_?” Lou snorted, a strangled sob distorting the ‘you’ into a high-pitched keen. Devoid of fight, drained and tired and heartbroken and scared, Lou collapsed against Harry’s neck and began to sob, not normal earthbound sobs, but wild ones, sobs that could only exist in places that held no walls or corners or ceilings or echos. Lou _wailed_ , she screamed out over the choppy expanse of endless ocean and filled the whole sky with her anguish. These places didn’t care about her screams, didn’t acknowledge her pain, remaining blue and cold and indifferent; but Harry, Harry soaked up every vibration of her vocal chords, never reaching saturation. 

“ _Lou_ ,” Harry’s lips grazed across her ear, “You’re scaring me.” 

Lou tried to say her next words calmly but failed; they came out instead as screams, their momentum building like the tides, sweeping up her syllables and beaching them in clusters. “Our _baby_ , Harry, they took her, the sirens, they’d been waiting—I never buried your egg, and it dissolved and—and she fit in my palm and she was so small—” 

Harry went very still.

“—and Niallie said we should bring her here right away but I was _scared_ , she was so delicate and—and I didn’t want to lose her, and part of me was terrified your family would take her away and I’d never see her again—oh god, Harry, we have to get her back, do you have armies or warriors or—or tell me where they live, I’ll go, I’ll—”

“Did you name her?” Harry barely whispered this, but it reverberated in Lou’s chest stronger than her own cries. The mermaid stared past Lou, out across the ocean to the powder-blue horizon, her eyes reflecting so much sea they hardly looked green. 

“Darci.” 

One arm around her waist, the other coming up to loop her shoulders, Harry drew her closer. “Darci?”

Harry’s smell, so lovely and familiar, choked Lou’s breath. 

“What does she look like?” 

“Her tail is blue, deep blue. She has your dimples. And she has my eyes.” 

Harry’s heartbeat thrummed loudly but the mermaid otherwise didn’t respond; Lou could sense her warring with herself, teetering between disbelief and wonder. 

“Old magic,” Lou offered. “The sirens said it was old magic. Tears. I don’t understand it either, but she’s _mine_ Harry, she’s my baby too, and you need to believe me _right now_ because we have to save her.” 

Harry bit her lip to stop it trembling; her eyes darted across the sky as if she were reading something in the sparse clouds that she’d forgotten. “I—we… have a baby?” 

“Yes.” Lou smiled, reaching out to wipe Harry’s cheeks. “She’s perfect, perfect and beautiful, just like her mommy.” 

“I’ve spent all this time trying to—” Harry clenched her jaw, the tension straining her neck into chords. “What have I done.” 

“Sweetheart.” The pet name slipped out easily, as if Lou had been using it every day for the past months, as if Harry had never left her side, left her bed, left her on their wedding day to return to her ocean family and her responsibilities and her other life. 

“I’m so very stupid,” Harry whispered, her voice cracking in three places. “You should never forgive me.”

“Harry. None of this, none of what’s happened matters right now. Only Darci.” 

Harry blinked furiously against her emotions. “Only Darci.” She took a deep breath. “I have to go home, get help.” 

“Home as in… down there.” Lou stared into the depths and felt her throat constrict. “Go, then. I’ll wait here.” 

“You can’t wait here, you’ll die.”

“No, I won’t. I can float. Or I’ll—I’ll swim to shore or something.”

With one tug Harry pressed Lou firmly to her chest. “Lou, we’re miles from shore. I can’t leave you.” 

“There’s not time, Harry,” 

“You’ll just have to come with me.” 

Lou propped herself away from the mermaid, hearing the moments tick by in her head, each wasted second putting her farther from her daughter. “How? I can’t exactly breathe underwater.” 

“I’ll be right back, can you not sink for a minute?” 

“Yes, Harry, of course, but—” Lou didn’t mean for her nostrils to flare, but as Harry let her go and disappeared into the murky depths, they did. The tip of her feathery fin flicked Lou’s face with droplets as it first surfaced, then descended back into the water. Nothing but cluttered waves and gusts of wind filled in the silence, and after a few minutes Lou began to hallucinate Darci’s cries, unable to distinguish them from the seagulls overhead.

Harry eventually returned, clutching something securely in her hand. 

“This will hurt, Lou,” she cautioned. “We used to use it for sailors sometimes. Don’t fight it; I promise it can be coaxed out again.” 

“ _Coaxed_?” Lou tried to glimpse what Harry held, but she could only make out bright orange coloring on what looked like a thin, tapered rod. 

“It’s, um,” Harry looked profoundly apologetic, “Probably best if you close your eyes.” 

“Okay.” Anything for Darci. 

Harry’s hands opened her mouth and moments later something was crawling down Lou’s tongue. Immediately she gagged and squirmed, but Harry held her steady, soothing her as multiple tiny legs made their way down her throat, stuffing her windpipe like a cylindrical plug and hooking something that felt like pincers into the bottom of her tonsils. Suddenly Lou couldn’t breathe. 

Harry quickly pulled her under the water and put her lips directly against Lou’s ear. “ _Take a breath, now_.” 

With not a shred of understanding, only blind trust, Lou did. To her shock, she could _breathe_. She inhaled and exhaled in slow motion for a good minute, the pain in her throat becoming tolerable, secure even, and as she relaxed further, the pincers retracted from her skin and whatever Harry had thrust down her windpipe seemed to make itself quite at home. She turned to Harry, slightly in awe, slightly put out, the ocean tinting them both a muted blue. 

“ _That wasn’t my favorite thing,_ ” she said into the water, her voice only traveling a few inches out from her, hardly audible to her own ears. But Harry heard. 

“ _Add it to the list,_ ” Harry said, again speaking directly into her ear.

“ _The list_?” 

“ _Of things you shouldn’t forgive me for. Hold tight to me, Lou, and don’t let go_.” 

Lou linked her arms around Harry’s bare torso and hitched her legs over the mermaid’s scaley hips. Harry didn’t seem to mind that this meant Lou would be nestled against her breasts, which were bare and weightless and decidedly not cold. In fact, Harry whimpered softly, deep in her chest; Lou only heard the noise because it vibrated through her skin. The mermaid mirrored Lou’s hold and in the same motion kicked her powerful tail out behind them, propelling them forwards at a speed Lou couldn’t really equate with air travel, but it left her skin tingling and her ears rushing and she had to squint her eyes against the onslaught of rushing saltwater. 

Thankfully, as they swam, Harry stayed close to the surface where the pressure remained tolerable and sunlight could reach them, warm them. Below the light’s reach, though, pitch darkness consumed everything. Time and time again a black form would pass beneath them—small usually, but several times gigantic—and once they swam for half a minute before they cleared one shadow’s length. 

Despite the foreign environment of the water, Lou felt a sense of security she hadn’t since Harry last slept in their bed. Over the intervening months with Darci, she’d pushed down the intense ache of missing her partner in lieu of using every shred of her energy to love their daughter; but now, in Harry’s arms again, abscent the time or wherewithal to put up the proper guards, defenses, cautionary spaces to protect her broken heart, she found herself sinking too easily into familiar closeness. 

Harry didn’t pause or break her speed until the ocean began to change around them. The black depths turned to hilly white sand dotted with rocks and growths and deep green-gray-brown things that twisted into gnarled, alien shapes. They looked almost alive; they probably _were_. Soon the sand lay not even thirty feet below them and more bits of vegetation had started to lend it texture, things that looked like trees but had far too many branches and gleamed white and bare, like a winter forest. Schools of tiny fish darted around them in little blinks of light, like disco balls of the sea, shimmering and reflecting in synchronized turns. 

Harry slowed to navigate around the sun-reaching plants and Lou loosened her grip on the mermaid to satisfy her curiosity and touch a pock-filled, alabaster limb. The coral didn’t budge; it remained coarse and hard, like a kind of naked bone. Noticing her interest, Harry stopped, watching her as if at any moment she expected Lou to panic at their surroundings. Lou looked from the coral to Harry’s ever-undulating tail, long and thick and graceful, amplified in beauty—if that were possible—by the sea. How Lou ever could have mistaken it for a formed piece of silicone, she’d never know. With only slight hesitation she laid her hand just above where the mermaid’s skin turned to scales. Harry swallowed noticeably. 

“ _We’re here_ ,” Harry said into her ear, her voice shaky even through the water. “ _Lou? I’m going to try and sneak you in. This is sort-of the back door. But…_ ” 

Lou shook her head. “ _I don’t care if your people kill me. Just save Darci, whatever it takes_.” 

Very timidly, Harry reached out and cupped Lou’s chin as she fought a losing struggle with the corners of her mouth, her eyes big and pleading. “ _I care, Lou_.”

Gently Lou pressed her lips to Harry’s bare chest, directly over her thundering heart. “ _S’not just me who needs you anymore_.” 

Harry’s nipples pebbled to either side of her, and a second later the mermaid was sealing her warm mouth to Lou’s neck in a kiss. Gathering Lou once more against her, Harry continued to weave between the corals, and though they moved through the water steadily, Lou felt almost as if they were standing still, silent and secure in each other’s arms, Harry’s mouth continuing to find her skin for no other reason than it could. 

Soon they approached what appeared to be a wall. Upon looking closer, Lou saw it was actually a very dense forest of coral, the plants having woven their limbs together to create an impenetrable barricade of baby pink. Harry reached towards the coral and quickly scraped her right palm down one branch. When she withdrew, Lou saw the pink of the branch had turned to bright red. She glanced at Harry’s hand, and sure enough, blood was seeping from it out into the water. But Lou didn’t have time to be horrified by this, because a moment later the coral forest parted, twig by twig, un-weaving itself to fold back and offer a clear tunnel. 

Forcing a reassuring smile, Harry guided her forwards and they began to swim through the opening. The coral closed back up behind them, and in front of them it parted only a foot or so in advance. Lou fought against claustrophobia as they journeyed through, creeping forwards for what felt like ages. Finally Harry came to a stop, and the coral halted its disentanglement too. 

“ _You have to promise me, Lou,_ ” Harry again spoke into her ear, “ _That you’ll stay where I leave you and you won’t show yourself_.”

Avoiding the question, Lou floated closer. Harry blinked a couple times, nervous perhaps, before Lou joined their mouths; she understood, then, why their first kiss had so fascinated Harry. Everything was wet—everything was cold—save their skin and tongues. But it still felt good, so good, so beautiful, and Harry still moved her lips the same way she always had and hungrily pressed their chests together. Lou reached out instinctively to grasp Harry’s soft hips, the tender swell of her love handles that she’d caressed so many times before, but of course she now found slick scales, hard and thin, like large sequins that slightly overlapped in perfect Fibonacci sequence. 

Harry sighed and slid her warm fingers under the back of Lou’s swim top, and Lou drew her palms down from Harry’s shoulders to cup along the swell of her breasts, right where her longest curls tapered away. Harry leaned into the touch for a time before bringing her lips to Lou’s ear. 

“ _I’ve missed you every second, Lou. I thought the hurt would kill me. I… I wanted it to_.” She took her time saying her next words. “ _I love you_.” 

Lou couldn’t be stitched back together with words alone, but a warmness tingled in her heart, a merging of relief and guilt and anger and ache that somehow gilded her own unconditional love. Because that’s what she had for the mermaid, she realized. She had a love that couldn’t be broken with absence or tainted by injury or lessened by time. Her heart would belong to the green-eyed girl with the too-open face and the chocolate curls until her atoms were parsed out into new organisms, and even then somewhere in the world, there would be a blade of grass that loved a mermaid named Harriet. She was sure of that. 

“ _Whatever happens, Harry, find our baby. Make sure she’s safe and happy_.” 

Harry nodded at her solemnly, her curls waving out to form a halo. Hand in hand they started forward once more, and this time when the coral parted it revealed not more coral, but a kingdom. 

*

Lou had seen many colors in her lifetime—rainbows, autumn forests, neon spring hazes, multitudes of flowers, various tints of lipsticks—but nothing, nothing could have prepared her for the colors under the sea. Painted like the brightest candies from a sweet’s shop, strange plants blanketed whole mounds of coral, looking lickably delicious. Frilly creatures stretched up in brilliant pinks and yellows and greens against the currents, like advertisements flown for a car sale. Aenemonies coated the coral like grass, undulating in every possible hue as striped fishes swam between their chord-like fingers. Things very like leafless birches broke up the hilly flatness by stretching towards the surface, drawing the eye with them. Lou spotted an octopus and several seahorses and one very large turtle. 

Harry watched her with a tender smile and squeezed her hand tightly. 

“ _It’s beautiful, your world_ ,” Lou murmured

“ _This is just the outskirts, we have a ways to go still_.”

Harry turned towards the deepening maze of the kingdom and made a strange barking noise that Lou couldn’t entirely decipher. Seconds later a ray appeared over the top of one coral hill, its massive wings flapping in their direction. The creature came to a stop in front of Harry and nosed against her bloody palm. 

“ _This is Onz. We’re going to ride her_ ,” Harry said, close to Lou’s ear once again. “ _Don’t worry, I’ll be right beside you_.” 

Trying to be as careful as possible, Lou managed to float atop Onz’s back. Harry planted their hands securely around the creature’s supposed shoulders, and though the ray wiggled her outstretched wings at the touch, she didn’t seem to mind. 

The ray pulled them along, but the updraft of the water also pushed the creature’s back up to mesh with Lou’s belly, so though they were moving forwards through thick water, riding Onz felt more like lying atop a magic carpet. They swam through wondrous beauties, too many for Lou to keep track of, gliding in and out of hot and cold currents, over sea grasses that tickled her dangling feet, and past shells so large and patterned and bright that Lou wondered if mermaids had painted them. Yet even these wonders paled in comparison to the glories of Throngongai. 

It wasn’t in any way a human city, made of cold materials and pavement and electric lights; this city _was alive_. Great structures of coral interlaced to form columns and pathways and tunnels. Dwellings grew in any variation of a closed shape, hanging like polyps off of structures that seemed to stretch up into the sun, themselves artfully covered in mosses and lichens and seaweeds and creatures and plants, and these growths were far from random, instead tightly cultivated into patterns and shapes, like a city-wide sea garden. Amidst the civilization that lay spread before her for miles in every direction—brimming with color and sea-life and sunshine—stood a palace. Lou recognized it as such immediately, for it looked too beautiful to be real, something out of a fairytale story. It seemed entirely made of gold; Lou didn’t know how that could be possible, yet there it stood, embellished and twisted into delicate shapes like the rest of the coral structures, but gleaming, metallic, with pillars and archways and peaks and towers. 

They sank lower as Onz glided down a little hill; anemones brushed against the ray’s fins, embracing her, as she skimmed their tops. Soon they reached the city proper, and Harry once again scratched her hand down a coral wall. It opened immediately and Lou followed the mermaid, slipping off of Onz and paddling her way forward to take Harry’s hand. 

“ _Secret passageways_ ,” Harry said into her ear, kissing her cheek gently, shyly, before pulling away. 

This tunnel didn’t resemble the previous one at all. It was carved out—fully formed—already, only its entrance closing back up behind them. An eerie green glow filled the passageway, a result of its bioluminescent walls. Lou shivered, that same close, tight, folded panic settling in her chest like before, but Harry urged her on. The tunnel twisted and turned and dipped and rose, until at last, they could go no farther. Harry pressed her still-bloodied palm against the solid coral blocking them and it unfurled with a nearly audible moan to reveal a large, spherical chamber. Thick, wavy plants covered these walls as well, but the growths were white now, and their luminance shone white as well. At the chamber’s curved bottom lay a bed-like thing carved from glittering shells, something soft and pink serving as a mattress. 

“ _This is my room_ ,” Harry said against Lou’s ear, her eyes sheepish. “ _You can relax. You won’t float up to the surface if you stop swimming here, just to the ceiling_.” 

With a flip of her tail Harry dove towards the bed, fumbling around near it for some time before swimming back to Lou with a small conch shell in her hands. She placed it up to Lou’s ear like an old-timey hearing aid; before Lou could laugh at such absurdity, Harry giggled, a loud, startling sound in the deafening water that Lou heard with crystal clarity. 

“ _Oh_!” She looked at Harry in shock. 

“ _Better_?” Harry clearly thought the situation hilarious. 

“ _Obviously, I’m not made for the ocean. Ear trumpets and breathing tubes—er, creatures._ ” Lou’s smile lasted only a moment before it faded, taking Harry’s with it. “ _So what’s the plan_?”

Harry tugged at her curls, her brow creasing. “ _The guards are under my sister’s command, but my mom has to approve us going after the sirens. They’ve been our enemies for millennia so, you know, war treaties and all that_.” Harry hung her head and Lou wondered why. 

“ _Okay. And that will work, won’t it_?” 

“ _It should, once I explain. I hope. They were…_ ” Harry hesitated and got a sick look on her face, “ _Very angry about me coming home with no heir. I would think they’d be thrilled to hear I actually have one now. And mom’s pretty used to me messing everything up and needing her help_.” 

“ _Harry_.” Lou squeezed the mermaid’s arm. “ _How could you have known_.” 

“ _There are legends about tears, Lou. I just, I never thought they could do _that_. I would never have guessed you were crying, either, when you… when you were… when…_”

“ _When I was eating your pussy_ ,” Lou supplied softly. Harry nodded. 

“ _I thought it made you happy, is all_.” 

“ _Oh Harry_.” Lou stuffed the conch under her arm and took Harry’s miseried face in her hands. “ _Of course I was happy. I’d never been so happy in all my life. I was crying in *joy* because your pussy is the most beautiful, delicious, special place in this whole universe. Fuck, I would start a relgion for your pussy_.” 

“ _With churches and pews and candles and statues_?” Harry’s cheeks grew pink. 

“ _The whole nine yards_.” 

For the first time since their reunion, Harry’s face broke into a dimpled smile; it lingered for a moment before her mood fell back upon her. “ _I haven’t heard your expressions in so long_.” Harry kissed Lou gently on the cheek. “ _Stay here, no one will come in this room. I’ll be back soon_.” 

Lou pecked her back. “ _Hurry_.” 

The mermaid gave a nod and swam to another coral door; this one opened with a simple flick of her fin. As soon as Harry had disappeared from view, Lou followed, of course, touching the door in the same way. She felt a little thrill of satisfaction when it opened for her. No way in hell was she letting Harry go alone. 

*

Always Lou stayed just in sight of Harry’s tail fin, no closer. The tunnel, though quite spacious in circumference, only spanned a short distance, and soon Harry had exited it into another chamber, this one as large as a theater and oblong, but with the same wavy white walls and accompanying white light. Out of these walls grew (or hung, Lou couldn’t be sure) pearl-y chairs, their polished surfaces protruding at regular intervals like a well-ordered reverse pincushion. In their center, midway up and across from the tunnel’s exit, hung what could only be a throne; it gleamed of gold, looking just as alive as the coral, for all that carved precious metals didn’t normally vein out into delicate tendrils or weave themselves into solid, ordered structures. 

Every seat contained a mermaid. Through her conch shell Lou could hear chatter, like one would in a busy chamber of government, and she realized that this room likely served as some type of royal court. On the throne sat an older mermaid with a tail of rich purple wearing a heavily jeweled crown atop her brown hair. Lou clung to the tunnel wall, just barely peeking around its edge enough to see Harry swimming into the chamber’s center, approaching the Queen. As she neared, the room quieted and the mermaids once engaged in varied conversations turned their attention to her. When Harry reached her mother she bowed her head and spoke, but Loud couldn’t make out what she said. 

“ _This is no longer a private matter, Harriet. Anything you have to say can be said to all. We have been watching for your return, but we did not see you entering Throngongai_.” 

“ _Yes, mother. I came in the back way, it was closer_ —”

“ _You came in the back way to gather your thoughts and come up with a suitable story. Let’s not play games_.” 

Though a pin dropping couldn’t have made a noise in the water, Lou felt she would be able to hear one anyway. Her heart rate crept up. 

“ _Mother, I_ —” 

“ _Were you correct? Did you find your heir floating off the coast like you suspected_?” The Queen’s tone carried not a drop of sincerity. 

“ _She was there, yes. The sirens… took her_.” 

The chamber immediately broke out in laughter. Lou’s stomach went sick as the Queen rubbed her temples and slapped her tail once against the throne, commanding silence.

“ _For months, Harriet, you have tried scheme after scheme to make up for betraying your kingdom. All have failed. Your sister has advocated for your sanity, but I’ve always known the guilt would drive you mad. You’re not right in the mind, daughter, you’ve spent too much time on land. Your senses are warped_.” 

Seeming to throw protocol to the wind, Harry flung herself on the Queen’s lap, and the room gasped. Before she could get out whatever fervent pleas she’d planned, another mermaid, slightly smaller than Harry and with straight, blonde hair and a golden-yellow tail, grabbed her ‘round the middle and tugged her away. Far from entrapping Harry, the mermaid seemed to be trying to calm her. 

“ _Mother, why would she lie about this? Why get our hopes up only to be found out_?” The blonde mermaid (Lou guessed her to be Gemma) said.

“ _Perhaps to distract us from the fate of this kingdom and lessen her own shame_.” Tittering voices started up again and the Queen once more thwacked her tail. “ _All you have done is break your word, Harriet. You led me to believe that you would do your duty when I sent you back. You did not. Now you want me to believe that despite not mating, despite not nesting an egg, you have an heir_.” 

“ _I—I did have a mate_.” 

Racouse talking once again filled the chamber. The Queen’s next words easily broke through the noise. 

“ _Did you obey me and find a mate and then abandon your egg_?” 

“ _Please_!” Harry screamed with all she had, and the talking suddenly abated. Lou could hear the hysteria in her tone, could hear the tears in her voice. “ _My daughter is out there somewhere with the sirens, they took her, they have her held captive_ —”

“ _Took her from whom. From you_?” 

“ _No, I_ —”

“ _Did you see her_?” 

“ _No, but_ —”

“ _Why would you come back here without an egg if you mated_?” Gemma shook her by her shoulders, making Harry’s curls ripple with the motion. 

“ _I didn’t know_ —”

“ _How could you possibly not know, Harriet_.” 

Harry wiggled free of her sister’s hold and folded her arms tightly across her chest. “ _I just *know*, I felt her, here, in my heart, and I need help saving her, please_ …”

“ _You’re delusional_.” The queen shook her head. “ _You’ve doomed this kingdom to destruction and you’ve gone mad_.” 

Harry curled in on herself, her beautiful green tail tucking up like knees to her chest. “ _I have a *baby*. I need help saving her, *please*_ ,”

“ _No, sister. You lost your egg. You are barren, and this is insanity_.” 

Harry gave a horrible cry and Lou could take no more. Clenching the conch shell and taking a deep breath through her throat creature, she pushed out from the tunnel. As she awkwardly paddled forward, pair after pair of eyes turned on her and the chamber fell deathly still. The Queen noticed her before Gemma, and Lou got to glimpse a flash of confusion cross her face before three pairs of arms grabbed her roughly and she felt sharp prinks against her neck. Harry turned then, and saw. 

“ _NO_!” Harry launched towards her, but Gemma blocked her progress, calling on two more of the trident wielding mermaids for aid. “ _No, Lou, no, no, no_ ….” 

“ _I’m her mate_ ,” Lou shouted at the top of her lungs, and though she could hardly hear her own voice, the surrounding mermaids all gasped in shock. 

“ _You are a female_ ,” the Queen said, half a question. 

Lou’s captors hauled her closer to the throne. Though the weapon-points at her neck made it nearly impossible to swallow, Lou spoke firmly. “ _Yes. It was my tears_.” 

“ _Tears_?” Gemma repeated as she studied Lou, staring up and down every centimeter of her. 

“ _That is Old Magic, from a time long passed. It is little more than myth_ ,” the Queen stated.

“ _Then I just came here to die for nothing, did I? You must believe us. We have a daughter, I was trying to bring her home and the sirens took her from me. They’d been watching and waiting. I don’t know where she is, and I don’t care if you kill me, but you *must* believe us and you must bring her home_.” 

Gemma swam closer, her blonde hair moving like a separate living creature as she tilted her head. “ _You cried inside of my sister_?” 

Feeling an angry type of courage empower her, Lou answered, “ _I did a lot inside of your sister. We were lovers. I was her *mate*. You need to fucking believe us_.” 

The Queen contemplated this a moment before eventually giving a sideways flick of her tail. The guards released Lou, and immediately Harry fought free and crashed into her, shielding her in a protective embrace, wrapping herself around Lou’s body, crying still, though the seawater rendered her tears invisible. 

“ _Very well. Gemma, take the guards and search out Slatisar and her sister. If there is truth to this, they will pay a dear price_.” 

Lou combed her fingers comfortingly through Harry’s curls, but the mermaid wouldn’t cease her weeping. Sure, certain, Lou met the Queen’s eyes, her gaze steady though she’d guessed at what came next. 

“ _And when you go, take the human with you. Kill her outside of Throngongai, I do not want scavengers within our borders_.” 

Harry’s arms squeezed Lou tighter. “ _Then you kill me too, mother. Then you kill me too_.” 

The Queen spread her hands in a gesture of acquiescence. “ _Take them both. Your lies have brought enough pain, Harriet. If this is the fate you choose, let it be done. You will change your mind though, of that I am sure. Gemma, take them_.”

Gemma paled, but bowed her head nonetheless, her hair billowing out around her. The five trident-weidling mermaids lowered their weapons and without more ado escorted Lou and Harry from the chamber. The silence of the mermaid court as they departed somehow terrified Lou more than if they’d all been laughing. 

 

*

They called it a lost calf cry, or at least that’s the closest it translated from Whale to words. Mermaids had aided in its execution for millennia, for not only whales but any other creatures that sought their aid. Lou heard it from their cell, a loud, mournful wail, and Harry explained that it came from a very large conch shell that stood at the edge of Throngongai. Any creature that bore the mermaids’ allegiance would help locate the sirens, and by extension, Darci. Harry repeated this over and over, reassuring Lou that their daughter would be found, would be rescued, would be safe. But Lou was angry. Though she let Harry cling to her and whisper these words of reassurance, she really wanted, deep down, to slap her former lover and shake her by the shoulders and scream in her face that she must _live_ she must stay alive for their daughter, that she must love Darci for the both of them. 

But Lou couldn’t bring herself to be forceful with Harry. How could she yell at the girl who was willing to die for her? As the hours passed and the glowing walls of the cell dimmed, Lou presumed that night had fallen. Having talked herself hoarse, Harry grew quiet, and Lou took the silence to devise her last plea carefully in her mind; it had to be fervent, unquestionable, demanding. It had to be a mission, something to carry out, something to fulfill. Lou ran over her words a dozen times or more before she deemed them sufficient.

“ _Sweetheart_?” She asked at last, kissing Harry’s temple. “ _Remember the morning of our wedding_?”

Harry nodded against her shoulder. “ _Of course, Lou. It’s in my head like a movie_.” 

“ _Me too_.” Lou readied herself. “ _Remember when you said you broke your promise? To marry me?_ ” 

Harry nodded, slowly. “ _Add it to the list_.” 

“ _No more lists, Harry. Make it up to me. Make it up to me with another promise_.”

Harry pulled away, a tortured look in her eyes. “ _No… no please, Lou. Don’t ask me_ —”

But Lou asked. “ _Live for Darci. Live for our little girl, Harry. I don’t want her raised with a woman who cares only for her blood, not her heart. I don’t want our daughter bound to this place with a spell; you must keep trying to break it, Harry, to free her. She’ll grow up, sweetheart, her and her lovely blue tail and blue eyes and dimples, and they’ll make her go to shore and find a mate, too. What if she’s like you, Harry? What if she doesn’t want that? What if she doesn’t want any of this? Will you condemn her to a loveless life? Never knowing her mommy, never knowing about me, never knowing how much I loved her_?” 

Harry whimpered, and Lou knew she was driving a stake through her love’s heart, but she couldn’t stop. She had two loves now. And she would do anything, anything for her baby. 

“ _I can’t. I can’t watch you die, Lou_.”

“ _Then you turn away_.” Lou grabbed Harry’s face between her hands and kissed her fiercely, just for a moment, a promise, a seal, a bequest. “ _You will turn away and you will take our baby and you will love her for me. Promise me, Harry. Promise me_.” 

Lou knew when Harry’s brain decided, for her tail went limp and all the light left her eyes. A cold purple came to her lips and her cheeks looked suddenly sunken. “I promise.” 

They held each other in silence until, a short time later, two of the trident-carrying guards from before came to fetch them. After tying their arms, the mermaids bound them by their torsos to the sides of two large swordfish. On these living transports, Lou and Harry excited the palace and headed towards the border of Throngongai. 

Gemma and her remaining three guards met them at the city gates (great pearl structures, heavily secured and lit only by the glowing fauna around them). Lou noticed that the mermaids were armed not only with their tridents but also with spiked nets and spears and things that looked like darts. As they set off into the black ocean, leaving the city behind, Lou overheard that dolphins had reported a baby’s cry along the rock walls of a little island not far from shore. 

The swordfish bumped uncomfortably into her as it swam, its body swishing side to side. Lou hardly felt like she was going to her death; in a strange way the midnight ocean already resembled the afterlife, and she wasn’t scared, not really. She only feared they would kill her before saving Darci. She only feared for the anguish of Harry’s pain. 

Unable to keep track of time, Lou only knew they travelled until her limbs had gone numb from the constant pressure of water against her skin. Just when she’d begun to give up trying to keep her eyes open (for her surroundings looked the same either way), a slight rose tint crept into the sea, a soft, rusty hue that physically warmed her even though the water’s temperature never changed. Soon an upwards rushing plastered her hair against her scalp and she felt hands untying her from her transport. Lou broke the surface and instinctively took a breath, only to find her airway plugged. 

In the dim light she felt more than saw Harry pull her close and reach into her mouth. After several seconds of having her throat nearly clawed out, the plug loosened in Lou’s windpipe and a slinking sensation marked the breath-creature’s departure.It took all of her strength not to be sick as the thing exited her lips, thin and slimy and disturbingly slug-like. Breathing air hurt terribly for a few moments, so much so she couldn’t concentrate on the mermaids’ conversation at first. 

“—let her die.” 

“No. Not like that.” 

“And how would you prefer it, sister? Now that you won’t be joining her.” 

“Quickly. Gently.” Harry’s voice didn’t betray her, but her arms shook around Lou. 

“Gemma, Jade and Perrie are approaching.” 

Lou blinked in the dawn light as two guards surfaced next to them. 

“Princess,” one whispered, “The entrance has been enchanted with a waterfall. The gulls say Slatisar is alone, asleep, and that her sister is out hunting.” 

Gemma grit her teeth. “Sirens are as petty as they are cruel. It’s too high to jump, I assume?” 

“At least thirty feet.” 

“And the entrance itself?” 

“I don’t think they were expecting company. It is unguarded.”

“We’ll enter from above, your highness. We’ll get the gulls to fly us atop the rocks.” 

Shaking her head, Gemma pointed to the horizon. “To assemble them silently will take hours. It’s nearly sunrise. We’ll lose the element of surprise, and if her sister nears she will see us clearly...”

“We don’t have much choice, princess.” 

“There is always a choice.” Gemma looked to Harry, then to Lou. “Do you understand what we’re saying, human?” 

Lou tried to make out Gemma’s expression. “You can’t climb the rock face because of the waterfall. You wouldn’t have legs.” 

Harry didn’t speak, but her arms trembled more. 

“We have no _time_ for your dramatics, sister, nor do I have time to scare you with lessons. We will fail if we wait until dawn.” Gemma moved towards them and reached out to tuck one of Harry’s salt-heavy curls behind her ear. “I was always going to let her go, Harriet. No one here will tell mom.” 

A chorus of nods surrounded them, the mermaid guards looking far more sympathetic than Lou had ever hoped to imagine. She broke into the sisters’ moment.

“She’s right, Harry. We have to do it now. I can go, I can climb. I lost her to them, and it’s only right I should be the one to get her back.” Lou remembered the cold talons that had clutched her skin and shivered. Harry loosed her, but didn’t say anything at all. Lou turned to Gemma. “Show me where I’m going.” 

The rocks at the little island’s waterline were slick, coated with algae and seaweed and moss; Lou lost her footing and slipped back into the waves several times, but with each failed attempt strong arms caught her and placed her back. Needing all four limbs to climb, Lou held one of the dart things Gemma had given her between her teeth. Once she’d figured out footholds for the first five feet, the climb became easier. Though the waterfall beat down hard, its speed arched it slightly off the rocks so Lou could reach inside the pounding stream with her toes and clutch onto stones wet only from spray. She scraped and gnashed her ankles and knees, and twice her thigh flew into a protruding jut of stone. Still, she climbed. 

When she’d managed to ascend nearly twenty feet, the first sunray breached the ocean’s edge. She hadn’t much time. Lou forced herself to keep going though her body ached, her muscles shook, her heart hurt. Finally, finally, as the sun beaded over the horizon, Lou’s fingers curled around the floor of the cave. She nodded down to Harry and the waiting mermaids before hoisting herself up.

Staring into the darkness before her, Lou caught her breath and tried to suss out the situation, tried to calm the adrenaline beating through her veins. She crept forward steadily, mind alert. The place looked empty. Going counterclockwise, she explored each corner of the cave until only one area remained; it appeared dark and empty too, at first, but as Lou got closer the darkness thickened and became heavier to breathe in. Very cautiously, Lou reached into the nothing. 

_Feathers_. 

In an instant she remembered the siren’s invisible wings and their terrifying shadow, and she understood. Of course Darci would be in her grasp, likewise hidden by the spell. Lou theorized through options in her head, but in no scenario could she move the siren’s wings, grab Darci, and sneak back out unnoticed. She couldn’t very well use the dart until she could see the siren clearly, thus eliminating the risk to Darci, but by then it would be too late to catch the creature by surprise. 

No. Her only advantages lay in shock and speed. Lou could be quick. She only had to make it to the edge, and then she could jump, and Harry would be there to catch her at the bottom.

But Lou knew, of course, that no matter how fast she crossed the little cave, it wouldn’t be fast enough for her to make it out unscathed. Her skin goose-pimpled as she remembered the talons and their cold smoothness, but Lou put this from her mind. That didn’t matter, only Darci mattered. And hadn’t she just been prepared to face death anyway?

Lou angled around the dark corner for a minute or so, noting how the dawn shadows played off the invisible siren, gauging where her wings met, where their top lay, where their bottom brushed the rock floor. When she’d planned as much as possible, she held her breath, grabbed out, and thrust the air apart, feeling thick plumage under her fingers. Lou nearly smiled at how well she’d guessed. As soon as she’d parted the wings, Darci became visible, lying silent and asleep in the siren’s lap. 

In one swift motion Lou bent and snatched her, just as the siren’s eyes snapped open and the creature’s once invisible wings turned to inky death. With Darci pinned against her chest Lou turned, her footing sure, her legs steady as they carried her towards the sea. As the first searing burn crossed her back she hunched her spine, shielding Darci with her skeleton, with her flesh, with everything she had. She kept running. 

Sounds were booming around her how, shrieking cries, high pitched and grating, echoing off the cave walls and nearly drowning out the blood pounding in her ears. Lou ran still as the second blow ripped her skin, tearing into her, catching this time, maybe on her bones. She didn’t care. She couldn’t feel much, now; her senses had gone numb, all of her energy given to speed, to clutching her daughter, to jumping. 

Pushing off from the cave edge, Lou welcomed the fall, welcomed the sudden relief her legs felt at their ceased motion, welcomed the bliss of near-success. Darci was almost safe in Harry’s arms. Claws raked her again, but she tumbled away from them this time, and before she hit the water she heard another shriek, a shriek of pain, and she knew the guards had used their barbed netting. 

The sea burned her. Fire consumed her back. Lou couldn’t open her eyes, but still she held Darci tightly, though the babe’s chubby legs had turned to slick scales. Not until Harry placed a shaky hand against her cheek and spoke did Lou loosen her grip.

“Lou… you saved her.” 

Other hands and arms took Darci from her, and Lou let them. Her mind seemed to be muddled somehow, and she knew that there were other important things to say, but for some reason she only wanted to hear Harry’s reaction to the sight of their daughter. 

“Isn’t she perfect, Harry? Our baby? Isn’t she beautiful?” 

Lips pressed to her forehead, but though Lou tried to open her eyes, she saw only darkness still. 

“Come, Harriet. There’s nothing to be done, sister.” 

Lou registered the words around her, but she cared only about the gentle hands that clasped her shoulders, that held her up in the water. She knew those hands. 

“The sharks are beginning to circle, Princess.” 

“I—I won’t.” 

“You cannot get her back to shore in time. She’s gone already.” 

“I—”

“We won’t be able to stave off this many, Princess, we _must_ go now, we must protect the heir.” 

“Then go.” 

“You really _will_ die for her, then, a mere human? And leave your child motherless? Look at your baby, Harriet. All these months you’ve grieved her, and here she is, _real_. Hold her, sister. Come with us. You cannot escape them all.” 

Lou felt herself being pulled against Harry’s chest, felt arms lock around her flayed flesh. “Her name is Darci,” Harry declared, a hardness in her tone. “Tell mother her name is Darci.” 

“Even if… Harriet, mother will never let you come back.” 

“Love her for me? Promise, Gemma?”

A beat passed before Gemma answered. “I promise, sister.” 

With these words sea foam filled Lou’s mouth and water rushed against her ears and she wondered if they were flying or swimming, for she couldn’t tell. Harry’s heartbeat ricocheted against her temple, and every so often Lou could hear a snapping noise, like a trap being sprung, to her left, to her right, vibrating through the water like shockwaves. Harry didn’t follow a straight line, for the water pulled at Lou first from one direction then the next. The dark of her open eyes became more inky, and though soon she could feel little beams of sunshine hitting her face, the world stayed hidden from view. 

She couldn’t remember a time before Harry’s arms, Harry’s heartbeat, the burning of her body, the constant salt in her mouth. Had the world started like this? She no longer remembered what pain was supposed to mean. Surely it was bad, somehow, but it had become a part of her, and she couldn’t tell what life meant without it. 

Her heels scraped against something, but it only felt like a brush of wind compared to all the other sensations clogging her nerves. When Harry spoke, Lou wondered why she sounded so far away, for the mermaid’s arms were still around her.

“NICKY! NICKY!” 

Coarse dryness touched Lou all over now, filtering into her burning flesh, making it burn more. She finally recognized her new tormenter as _sand_.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Nicky’s voice sounded wrong, pained, no teasing in her tone. “I’ve called for help. I knew. I knew something had gone wrong. We waited all night.” 

“God she’s not moving,” Niallie said, and Lou felt fingers against her neck. “Harry, where’s Darci?” 

“Nialls, get Harry dry before they arrive, I’ll sit with her. That’s it, Lou, on your stomach. Fuck, how much blood did you loose…” 

“Let’s carry her out of the surf, at least.” 

“Right.” Lou felt herself being picked up, but the stretch of her limbs didn’t hurt. It kind of tickled. 

“Lou…” Harry’s voice. Harry. Lou wanted to touch her hand. She reached out; Harry understood and linked their fingers together. 

“I’ve broken another promise, Lou.” 

Sand stuck to Lou’s tongue when she tried to speak.

“Don’t talk, Lou, just breathe—”

Though she ordered them sternly, her lips didn’t want to form words. For the first time it occurred to Lou that she was dying. After a brief moment of terror, she got on with saying what she needed to.

“You, Harry. You were my person.” 

Lou thought of her mom, her sisters, Veronica and Li, Stevie, Niallie, Nicky… Darci. She’d always heard that a person’s life flashed before their eyes just as they left it, but these people didn’t flash, they stayed, layering on top of each other in Lou’s mind until they felt like a blanket around her, warm, comforting, taking away her pain. And of course finally, Harry. The grand finale of Lou’s memories, her greatest love, her beating heart, her very soul. 

Harry’s voice, repeating endless I love you’s, got farther and farther away, though Lou could feel the mermaid’s lips, could feel her tears, could taste them both. She wondered at this as she approached silence with a strange sort of calm. Soon, Lou couldn’t hear anything at all.


	7. Promises

“—to reason? I’m sorry, but I really thought humans were the dumbest species.” 

“I’d always heard that too...” 

“Yes, at mermaid brainwashing school where they teach you love isn’t real and getting knocked up is the peak of your existence.” 

“Schnooks, she just got back from being nearly killed _again_ …”

“Sorry Harriet.” 

“It was foolish to hope they’d change their minds and I was an idiot for returning. I knew what Gemma meant.” 

“An idiot to think your family would accept you? Not capture you on sight and nearly kill you?”

“That’s not what hurts.”

“If someone did the equivalent of piercing my toe with a spear, I’d be quite upset.” 

“So they didn’t let you see her?” 

“No. Didn’t even let me through the gates. And all the walls were guarded.”

“Totally banished, huh?”

Lou tried to remember why this conversation mattered, why she found herself listening intently, why she knew the voices. She attempted to open her eyes; upon succeeding, she wished she hadn’t. Everything looked too bright, too white, and her head started throbbing instantly. She groaned. 

“Lou?” Harry suddenly appeared beside her, wide green eyes framed by dark circles. “You’re awake.” 

Seeing her face did it. Lou remembered. 

“Darci?” Her chest hurt as she spoke their baby’s name.

“She’s… safe, Lou. Safe and loved.” Harry hung her head, taking Lou’s hands in hers, stroking across her knuckles. 

“But not with us.” 

“Not with us,” Harry repeated, tears filling her eyes. 

Unable to plug the horrid hole that cratered into her heart, Lou instead let sleep once more close around her, let Harry hold her hand even though she vaguely remembered that this wasn’t supposed to happen, Harry wasn’t supposed to be there with her… something about a promise and death and a spell. But Lou’s head hurt too much to recall everything. 

*

Niallie drove them home the following day. Lou’s wounds were deep, but manageable, and three days in the hospital had been sufficient stabilization time; blood loss had been the thing that almost killed her. Doctors had accepted her injuries as a shark attack, perhaps willfully inventing ways that a row of teeth could leave gashes in groups of threes, spaced evenly apart. Nicky helpfully posited (loudly and within earshot of at last three gossiping nurses) that a paleolithic shark had perhaps never _actually_ gone extinct, and had somehow managed to swim from the ocean depths up to the edge of Florida, just looking for unsuspecting swimmers to rake with its wide-set teeth. 

During her first few days home Lou did little more than pop painkillers and lay on Niallie’s couch, stomach down, as Harry hovered over her, changing her bandages and bringing her juice and food and tea. They didn’t really speak much. Nicky and Niallie stayed close, helping with Lou’s care but mostly providing entertainment, insisting on Netflix or terrible card games, adamant that the two women not be left along with their grief. 

Because that’s what it was, as Nicky astutely pointed out. They weren’t simply dealing with a broken relationship—one wounded by lost time and absent memories and broken promises—but working through grief. That made much more sense than any other explanation Lou had come up with for why they hadn’t been able to hold each other or kiss or even smile. They were grieving, each in their own way, Lou for the babe she’d loved and tended for months, Harry for the child she’d first mourned would never be, and now had been forced to part with for a second time. 

As Lou began to be more mobile and regain her personality from the pain meds, the medium and her girlfriend started to leave Harry and Lou alone for stretches of time, taking their Seinfeld marathons to Nicky’s place, perhaps sensing the enormous gulf between their friends despite the fact that Harry had barely left Lou’s side. Honestly, as much as Nicky’s acerbic comments often annoyed her, Lou didn’t really want them to leave. She tried to surreptitiously say that to Nicky one evening, but the medium willfully missed her drift and whisked Niallie away anyway, suggesting as she left that maybe the two of them could look through photo albums, like the blue-covered one she had conveniently plopped on the coffee table earlier. 

“Maybe have a mug of hot chocolate and just take a peek? Cozy blanket, grab some cookies—” Nicky prompted, only her head poking back through the half-closed door. 

“When did you turn into a romantic,” Lou muttered, waving Nicky away. 

“I blame your roommate. Have fun, you two.” 

Lou scoffed under her breath as the lock latched, “Fun…” 

“We used to have fun,” Harry said softly, reappearing from the kitchen with two steaming mugs. 

“Harry… I didn’t mean…” 

“S’okay.” Harry gave a weak smile, the most she’d managed of late. Lou wished she just wouldn’t smile at all; witnessing her failed attempts hurt more. 

Hoping to distract her thoughts, Lou sat up and reached for the blue album. She was half curious about its contents, not recognizing it as either her own or one of Niallie’s. Flippantly she opened it, expecting to find documentation of the girl’s exploits, perhaps a few silhouetted sunsets. Instead her daughter’s face peered back at her. Lou slammed the book shut, her heart pounding. 

“Lou? What is it?” Harry asked, concern creasing her face. 

They hadn’t discussed Darci, hadn’t even spoken of her save with their eyes; sometimes Lou would catch Harry staring at her and she would just _know_. But what was there to say? Words seemed insufficient to describe their pain, and talking about their daughter would only remind them of the ever-gaping hole she’d left. Yet Nicky had gone and made a motherfucking _album_. 

“It’s pictures. Of her.” Lou grabbed her mug off the table a bit harshly, slopping some liquid out. A drop spilled on the blue album cover and Harry instantly lunged to wipe it off, hurriedly clutching the album to her lap, as if it could be physically compromised by a bit of hot water. Lou felt her temper flare. Without a word she took a sip of her tea, scalding her mouth on the too-hot liquid, but better a burned tongue incapable of words, she figured, than the spout of anger she wanted to unleash. She angled her body away, not wanting to look at Harry protecting the album, Harry revering the album, Harry treasuring the album when Harry, _Harry_ had left the object of said album in the ocean, had voluntarily given her up to a people that cared for Darci only as a means to their own ends. Lou had been ready to die for their daughter, for her future love and happiness. Harry? She’d never even properly met her. She’d never even held Darci in her arms before giving her up to Gemma, before breaking a promise that Lou had thought would be rooted in her parental DNA. Harry had never even kissed Darci before leaving her, leaving her just like she’d left Lou months before… 

Lou drank her mug dry, welcoming the heat down her throat. She could hear Harry flipping pages beside her, could hear the mermaid trying to sniff quietly and muffle her crying. A rageful pain inside Lou’s heart wanted to deny Harry even this, even the right to cry over the baby she’d given up. What right had she to hurt, when she’d caused their present situation? 

“You hate me, don’t you Lou. You hate me for choosing you.” 

Harry’s bluntness shamed her a little. “I love you, you know that, and I’m grateful to be alive.” 

“I know.” Harry closed the album and held it to her chest. “But you hate me, too.” 

Lou met her lover’s hollow stare. “I… I just don’t know if I can ever forgive you.” 

Harry nodded and tucked a curl behind her ear. “That’s okay. I don’t expect you too. There’s a list, remember? But Lou I… I don’t love her any less than you.” Harry fidgeted, crossing and uncrossing her legs. “I miss her every second of every day, right here in my stomach, like I’m carrying her still. And you, Lou. You’re right here, in front of me, but you’re farther away than if I were back in the ocean. I couldn’t watch you die. That was forever. This—there was hope with this. It wasn’t permanent, and I thought…” 

“Hope?” Lou’s voice rose. “Not permanent? That’s the risk you were willing to take? You gave me your _word_ Harry, you promised me our baby wouldn’t share your fate and you broke it. You promised to marry me and you ran away! You chose, both times, to do what felt right for you, what _you_ could bear! What about what I could bear, Harry? I’m angry at you, I’m really fucking angry at you. I’ve missed you more than is sane, and I love you so much I think it might kill me, and last night I even wanted to fuck you, I wanted to be inside you and taste you and hold you, but I’m angry. I’m so… _damn_ Harry, I watched her grow from _this big_ , I rocked her to sleep and told her I’d love her forever and I promised her the whole fucking world and—” 

Lou choked on her words as Harry curled up, knees to her chest, and laid her head in Lou’s lap, the album still held close. 

“Lou I’m _sorry_ …” 

“I _KNOW_!” Lou screamed, hot tears finally spilling from her eyes, their release loosing her fiery anger to seep away as well until only raw hurt and more than a good dose of regret remained. With shaky hands she began to comb through Harry’s curls, parting them, twisting them, braiding them, not caring if the salty run-off of her face dripped down to water Harry’s skin. 

“Would you have let me die?” Harry whispered when they’d both been reduced to breathy hiccups. 

Would she? Lou hadn’t placed herself in Harry’s position, perhaps out of oversized bravado; why would the need ever arise to choose between her two loves? She would just find a way to save them both, she would _make_ that work. Any other option just wasn’t… imaginable. But she tried, now. The image she came up with shocked her, so much so that the certainty she’d been assuming ceased to exist. 

Stunned, Lou admitted, “I don’t know.” Even the thought, the mere idea of Harry dying tore her heart into shreds, made her nauseous and light headed and scared. Harry had been right about one thing at least; death was final, always final. 

Perhaps Harry was also right about hope; maybe, somehow, things could still work out. After all, they’d been granted a sliver of magic once before, in Darci. But no. As Lou had always firmly maintained, life never followed the happy trajectory of fairy tales. 

Harry pushed up and repositioned herself in Lou’s lap, a post-cry calm having settled over her features. “Can you tell me, Lou?” 

“Tell you?”

Shoving the album into Lou’s hands, Harry carlified, “About our baby. I want to know everything. I’ve wanted to ask you ever since we got back. I just didn’t know how.” 

The aftertaste of Lou’s anger vanished as a new emotion swelled inside her: pride. With nervous, quaking hands she opened the album and looked again at the first page, at the many pictures of a peanut-sized Darci in her tank, asleep in her little sponge crib, her eyes not yet open, her bitsy tail glinting in the camera’s flash. 

“She’s the most perfect, wonderful baby, all smiles and wiggles. She falls asleep when I sing, and she once tried to eat Nicky’s earring because it was shiny. I think she’d like chandeliers, just like you.” 

“Really?” Harry nearly managed a real smile as Lou flipped the page.

“Here, see? We used to play nature programs for her, show her under the ocean, right? And she would go all wide eyed and still, as if she _knew_ that was her place.” 

“And she has your eyes.” Harry reached down to trace a picture of their daughter’s baby blues before gently brushing her fingers along Lou’s eyelashes, along the crinkles spilling down to her cheekbones. 

“She does.” Lou took Harry’s hand and turned the next page. 

*

“Let’s sit outside, I’m sick of television,” Lou ventured one afternoon when Niallie and Nicky had made themselves scarce. 

“In the sun?” 

“Can you grab the sunscreen? Think it’s in the bathroom.” Lou heaved herself from the couch as Harry hurried to complete her mission. Niallie kept two lawn chairs in her tiny backyard, so sunbathing would be comfortable and easy, perhaps even pleasant. Lou could use some pleasantness. She opened the screen and stepped out into the warm sunshine, grateful that the ocean breeze carried only cool, soothing air.

“Got it,” Harry joined her, giving Lou a small smile. She’d begun to do that more, but still, Lou had last seen Harry’s dimples on Darci’s face. 

“Thanks,” Lou said, taking the bottle. She opened the lid and squeezed a dollop to her palm, spreading the smelly stuff swiftly over her arms, her shoulders, the backs of her hands, tops of her legs. Her bandages and shirt protected her back well enough. 

“C-can…” Harry’s voice hitched as she took a seat.

“Ya?”

The mermaid lowered her eyes and turned away. “Nevermind.” 

“Harry?” Lou reached out and laid a hand on her knee. “What is it?” 

“Could you do me?” Her words came out fragile, unsure. 

“‘Course, come here.” Lou motioned to her own chair and Harry moved over, pulling off her t-shirt to expose her bare back, predictably devoid of a bra. She clutched the rumpled shirt to her front and hunched a little. 

“Figure it’s time I get used to the sun.” 

Lou swallowed, taking in the pale expanse of Harry’s back, her protruding spine, her shoulders moving slightly with each breath. Tearing her eyes away for a second, she filled her palm with more sunscreen, then smeared her hands to Harry’s skin. The greasy substance coated the mermaid in a shiny film, like sweat, like dew, and the patterns of its dissolution mesmerized Lou. She rubbed until she’d covered every inch of Harry’s skin twice over, unwilling to take her hands back, to make them give up such soothing warmth. The lotion was set, though, and her task done. Her hands stilled. 

“I wish you had claws,” Harry stated quietly, and Lou hadn’t noticed before that she’d started to cry. 

“What?” 

“So you could wound me, like they wounded you.”

Lou took the mermaid by her shoulders and turned her. “Why would I ever do that?”

“Because I want to share that pain, I want to carry it with you.” Tears dripped down Harry’s nose, sparkling in the sunshine. “I spent my whole life wishing I could love like a human. I dreamt of it all the time, imagined what it would be like to have my own love story. I spent every day hoping that somehow I could just get a taste, and now…” 

“Now you wish you weren’t able to?” Lou finished for her, kissing Harry’s shiny shoulder. 

Harry turned around. “But I don’t wish that. I just didn’t know it could hurt like this. No, Lou, I wouldn’t trade loving you and Darci for anything.”

Lou studied the mermaid’s green eyes, remembering only too well when eager innocence had filled them instead of misery. “You _are_ human now, Harry,” Lou whispered. 

Harry took her hand. After a moment of stillness she twined their fingers. “Will it ever be the same? Our love.” 

Lou shook her head. “I don’t think anything will ever be the same, sweetheart. There’s a part of us missing now, and that will never heal.” 

“Will your love for me heal?” Harry held her breath and squeezed Lou’s palm, her eyes searching, begging for an answer.

“You broke my heart, Harry. These things take time.” 

More tears squeezed out as Harry closed her eyes, nodding. “I’m so sorry, Lou.” 

“I know.” Lou brought their clasped hands to her lips and kissed Harry’s knuckles. “I’m not blameless either, sweetheart. Maybe I’m too selfish. Maybe you had no choice, not in your mind. The hurt feels the same though, either way.” 

The sun beat down on them, already causing beads of sweat to form on Harry’s brow. The mermaid sniffed up at the sky. “Everything was so bright and wonderful before. Just you and me, the restaurant, popsicles, pussies. I guess I tried to forget all the problems, my family, my duty. I thought if I just ignored it all and kept postponing everything that maybe stuff would work out, like magic. I never meant for any of this to happen, honest. It was supposed to be just you and me, forever.” 

Lou smiled despite her heartache. “It’s never been just you and me, baby. I knocked you up that first night, remember? It’s always been the three of us, we just didn’t know it.” 

Harry ran a hand under her nose. “Have I ever told you, Lou, how happy it makes me?” 

“Happy?” 

“I used to dream of nesting my egg with you but I thought there was only one way.” Harry wiped her eyes. “I hate that my dream came true, and now we can’t have her. It hurts more than if it had only stayed a dream.” 

Lou stroked Harry’s damp cheek, bushing away a few more tears. She almost spoke her thoughts aloud. _*You* could have had her_.

“Do you think I could kiss you, Lou?” 

Lou’s tears came them, blurring Harry’s beautiful too-wide face, her hopeful expression, her soft, pink lips that had stopped Lou’s heart in _The Bulkhead_ a lifetime ago. 

“Yes, sweetheart.” 

 

*

The first time they had sex again was thanks to Kermit the Frog. Harry, claiming annoyance at such inaccurate portrayals of aquatic life, had gotten up from Niallie’s movie marathon of Muppets films and slipped into their bedroom; Lou had followed, unprepared to find the mermaid simply sitting on the edge of the bed, both hands cupped between her legs, her face screwed up in pain. The words she’d spoken next continued to haunt Lou in quiet moments, during the dead of night when time hung perfectly still: _my skin misses yours, Lou, but our hearts are still strangers._

Lou had gone to her, had kissed her breathless and pinned her to the bed and slipped their panties off and crushed the tangled curls of their pussies together until such humping had driven Harry mad and she’d begged for more. Lou’s fingers had relieved her; at the breach she’d cried out Lou’s name and thrust in search of pressure for her clit. She’d come quickly, sharply, an edge to her orgasm that had never been there before. After, she had hungrily eaten Lou out, had made a home between her thighs to luxuriate in such wet, swollen, blood-flushed skin, feasting on her incremetally for what seemed like forever, building Lou’s climax at a pace of slow torture so that when she finally came, her cries could most definitely be heard outside their bedroom. All that night they’d sobbed into each other’s arms and shared sloppy, desperate kisses, smooshing their breasts together and linking their thighs and airing their pussies above the sheets, not caring if the room smelled of sex and tears and sweat. 

Soon they no longer felt like strangers. Time helped with that; crying, too, and intimacy as well. Lou found that pleasuring her lover now acted as a kind of bouey, familiar, warm, beautiful, and that making Harry come was the closest she could get to true joy.

They muddled along. Some mornings, at the earliest break of dawn, they would walk down to the beach and Lou would carry Harry into the waves and they would swim, each stroke bringing them farther from shore, until Lou would see the frenzied torture in Harry’s eyes and suggest they head home. The temptation to try and reason with her mother again weighed on Harry constantly, but Lou wouldn’t allow it; turned out she also couldn’t watch her lover go to her death. 

Sometimes they would have happy periods, stretches of days where their eyes would shine and Harry’s dimples would come out and they could giggle and laugh and joke with Nicky and Niallie and go dancing and explore museums and food trucks and experiment with recipes. Sometimes melancholy would find them for a week and they’d feed each other bites of food while they cried and Lou would paint Harry’s nine toenails as they listened to soft ballads and lit flickering candles. Always, though, they learned to face their pain together. Harry resumed swimming at the restaurant, saying she could use the exercise, but Lou understood the real reason, and her heart broke anew every time Harry would swim up to a little child and fascinate them with her wonders; she knew that in those small human faces Harry was imagining her own baby the only way she knew how. 

Sunsets usually brought them a little peace. They would walk from Niallie’s house to the shore and stroll along the sand as tourists and beach-goers packed up their umbrellas and towels and headed home. Usually by the time the sun extinguished itself under the waves they had the whole place to themselves, and they could cry or laugh or kiss undisturbed. 

On their way to the beach one night, Harry tripped over an uneven sidewalk joint and fell against Lou, her legs nearly as clumsy as the day they’d met.

“Careful, babe,” Lou soothed, kissing Harry’s ear as she offered stability. 

“Look!” Harry pointed down at the sidewalk joint. Dirt had filled it and packed down like soil, and from that bit of earth stood a dandelion, an old one, already passed its brilliant yellow bloom, now displaying only wintery white seeds.

Lou squeezed Harry’s hand, knowing the train of her thoughts. “Might as well, sweetheart.” 

Harry tugged her onward, shaking her head. “But it’s not real, Lou. Life isn’t like the stories.” 

Lou should have agreed, should have been stoic and practical, but lately a small flame of hope had kept rekindling inside of her, and despite logic and reason, she couldn’t quite snuff it out. “Then I will.” 

She plucked the little flower, the stem getting milky white all over her fingers, reminding her of Harry’s cum, sticky, sweet… She held the weed up to her lips and took in a breath, watching as the little seedlings trembled slightly, jiggling in their pincushion. 

“Alright.” Harry wrapped an arm around Lou and bent to her level. They blew at the same time. Little parasols of new life drifted up into the sky, looking pink in the glow of sunset.

“Don’t say what we wished for, Lou, don’t even whisper it, or it might not come true.” 

Lou nodded against Harry’s neck and pressed her lips to the mermaid’s temple. 

They walked on, and soon came to the beach; it was deserted. The sky had decided on purple, violet, and pink that night, and to Lou’s delight, Harry began to ramble about the world like she used to. Before.

“And it looks just like the inside of them, Lou. The same colors and everything. When I was little, I used to think that sunsets were just mimicking our shells, but now I know it’s the other way around. I wonder how many sunsets the little creatures have managed to seal into their skeletons. It must be in the billions.”

“I hope they seal this one,” Lou mused, watching as a gash, like a burning ember, opened against the lowest row of clouds. “I want it to last forever.” 

“Would you…” Harry hesitated, stopping and turning to Lou, her feet making a spiral in the white sand. “Would you ever want to seal us, forever?” 

Lou’s pulse jumped and she froze. “You mean—”

“Would you ever want to marry me again, Lou?” Harry dropped to her knees, knees that were now getting worn and calloused and imperfect— _human_. “Will you marry me again?” 

The sun cut itself in half on the sharp blade of ocean as Lou fell beside her lover and kissed her, whispering a thousand yeses with each of her exhaled breaths. She kissed Harry until her jaws hurt, until her lips were sticky and swollen and she’d run out of places to knot her hands into her lover’s curls. Giddy, flushed, they finally stood again as the sun blinked out and blue twilight filled the sky. Linking their hands, Harry leaned against Lou’s shoulder and they turned to walk home. 

Harry heard it first, a splashing entirely separate from the waves. She turned, curious. Lou likewise pivoted to face the surf and followed Harry’s gaze. In the silhouette of twilight she thought a _mermaid_ was sliding up the wet sand, emerging from the ocean. But that couldn’t be. That couldn’t be. 

As she watched, heart in her throat, the mermaid-shadow reached the white mounds of dry beach and her tail melted away to legs, and then she was _standing_ , standing and walking towards them, and she carried something in her arms. Lou strained against the coming dark, not daring to believe her eyes, not trusting them to interpret the shadows, too afraid that her mind had created this fantasy out of mere want alone. 

But then the mermaid was before them, and Harry spoke. “Gemma.” 

“Sister.” 

Neither mermaid moved towards the other. Lou felt the silence eating her. 

“I’ve loved her, like I promised. We all have.” Gemma readjusted the baby in her arms. 

“Is this mother’s pity or—”

“No.” Gemma came closer still, close enough that Lou could see Darci staring around at the world, her blue eyes curious, alert. “Somehow the spell has been broken. The coral started behaving oddly when you left, and now it makes no distinction between mother or me or any other mermaid. Or your baby.” 

Lou finally found her voice. “How is that possible?” 

“Perhaps by choosing to give up her birthright and stay here with you, Harriet ended the cycle. Perhaps we have been the masters of our own problems all along. Mother doesn’t see it like that; she claims you’ve broken everything, ruined the treaties with the sirens, put us to all the trouble of banishing those two in the Pacific… but none of that much matters, now. Darci is no longer needed, so I’ve brought her back to you.” 

Lou could barely concentrate on Gemma’s words, so focused was she on the baby before her, a baby who had spotted her, who was reaching for her with tiny, perfect hands. Lou reached back and gently lifted her daughter from Gemma’s arms. Darci cooed and giggled and settled in like she just _knew_ , she _knew_ Lou’s arms were her home. 

“I will take the throne after mother, and my daughter after me.” Gemma tentatively took Harry’s hand. “You’re free of this burden, sister.” 

Harry lunged to hug the other mermaid. “If I never see you again, tell mother… tell mother I forgive her.” 

“Tell her yourself. You’re not banished anymore. I think she’s hoping, someday, you’ll come back and bring Darci. She loves her too, you know, in her own way.” 

Harry pulled back and kissed her sister’s cheek. “Goodbye, Gemma.” 

“Goodbye, Harriet. I’m sorry for—I’m sorry.” 

Gemma gave Lou an apologetic nod and turned from them to head back down the beach. Moments later she disappeared with the surf and slipped away into the vast ocean, having returned their whole world. 

Lou breathed in her baby, her arms thick with protection, with the aching need to keep Darci against her chest forever. But Harry stood watching, her eyes wide with wonder, her posture timid, like she was an intruder, an outsider, not sure if she belonged, questioning her right to stare at the infant who now had a mess of thin, curly brown hair. Lou needed to fix that. 

“Darci, this is your mommy,” Lou whispered, kissing the babe’s wispy strands as Harry held her arms open, her breath unsteady, nervous. 

“I—I don’t know how...” 

“Like this, under her head, under her legs.” Lou moved Harry’s arms accordingly and transferred the infant, Darci a willing parcel. She stared up at Harry for a moment, then reached for one of her curls and let out a massive giggle, her dimples sprouting like spring flowers. 

Only then, when Harry saw that bit of herself reflected back, did she start to cry.


	8. Epilogue:—three years later—Pearls

“I fucking swear if this thing doesn’t—”

“Mumma Aunt Nicky said a bad word.” 

“Aunt Nicky’s going to say several more bad words if your mother doesn’t pull another trick out of her sleeve.” 

“It is entirely _not_ my fault that when we planned this wedding and bought this dress and sized the waist, you weren’t pregnant.” Lou gave a final yank and, miraculously, the zipper zipped. “I could bring up the fact that this is actually _directly_ your fault, as any good fortune teller would know she’d be pregnant three months before the wedding.” 

“Throwing that in my face again are you. We’re not all so lucky on the immaculate conception front, and I couldn’t keep that sperm in my freezer forever, now could I?”

“Aunt Nicky why do you keep whales in your freezer?” 

“Alright, time to go by mommy, up we come,” Lou scooped Darci into her arms and hurried out of their spare room, currently one of two makeshift dressing areas. She found Harry in the living room putting the finishing touches on Niallie’s hair. Lou’s forever blonde friend had finally decided to go natural, and since then Harry hadn’t ceased talking about how beautiful a white flower crown would look on her wedding day. Turned out she was right. 

“What’d you think, Lou?” Niallie stood and spun around, her billowy white suit pants and delicate lace shirt showing off every soft curve of her body, yet still managing to accent the angles of her nose, her jaw. Harry had woven her hair up so only the occasional loose strand hung artfully to frame her face. 

“You look like a cloud!” Darci exclaimed, squirming from Lou’s hold to rush at Niallie and hug her knees. 

“Don’t wrinkle the cloud, darling,” Harry cautioned, gently prying the toddler free. “That’s for Aunt Nicky to do.” 

“Love, I just brought her in here to escape that kind of talk,” Lou said softly, pecking Harry’s cheek. 

“Oh?” 

“Add sperm whale to the list.” 

“Is everyone here, guys?” Niallie asked as she slipped on a pair of white flats and peeked out the curtains towards the beach front. 

“Last time I checked we were only missing Stevie,” Lou searched the little group of people milling about behind the row of folding chairs they’d set out, “But I think I see her now. She’s talking to Veronica and Li, looks like.” 

A quiet knock sounded from the side door; Darci heard it and ran over, turned the knob, and threw herself on the guest with a squeal. 

“You made it!” Harry hurried to join her, embracing Gemma as Darci climbed the other mermaid like a spider monkey. “And you’re dressed and everything.”

“Yes well. I’ve gotten quite good at this whole human nonsense. Mother sends her will wishes, or at least the sentiment of them. And this is for you, little princess.” Gemma handed Darci a pearl the size of her whole palm, pink and satin-soft and glossy. 

“You know if mother would just talk with me for more than three minutes at a time she wouldn’t have to keep apologizing with gifts. Soon we’ll be able to buy an actual palace, not just a little house on the beach.” 

“Mother is mother,” Gemma replied, “And at least you’re talking.” 

Lou went and gave her mermaid sister-in-law a hug as well. Things weren’t exactly peachy between the two worlds, but they were markedly better than they had been three years previous. But then, one didn’t have to try very hard to rise above the level of child stealing and attempted execution. Still, Harry’s family had made strides towards understanding. The breakthrough had come at Lou and Harry’s own wedding; Lou had insisted they invite Harry’s family, though Harry had thought this ridiculous. To her surprise though, they’d come, not only bringing themselves, but weddings gifts in the form of treasures from Throngongai, requesting only that the couple use it in part to purchase a house by the sea. The Queen, it turned out, missed her daughter and granddaughter quite a lot. The real treasure Lou and Harry received, though, was the change their wedding brought to the mermaids’ hearts; seeing one of their kind marry a human, be in love with a human, and be happy with a human (and a human female at that), had made them reevaluate much of their cultural theory. Gemma had especially come around, spending whole days on land with them sometimes, marvelling at a kind of loving partnership she had never before witnessed. 

Darci served as the glue between the two worlds. Her wide-eyed wonder and ready acceptance of her vastly different homes breached many gaps of understanding, including the mermaids’ previously belief that knowledge of their existence must be met with death. Now Gemma insisted on inviting Lou along to share the mermaids’ watery world. Unfortunately this meant Lou saw much more of the orange breathing slug than she’d have preferred; even with that unpleasantness, though, Lou cherished being able to share the oceanic parts of Darci’s life. In fact, she cherished every wonderful, odd quirk of her daughter’s existence: scale scrubbing at bath time, playdates on the beach wearing rain boots, explaining to other mothers about Darci’s strange water allergy, coaching Darci herself on what _not_ to say if someone asked her about swimming. 

“Ready guys?” Niallie asked, smoothing her pockets down yet another time. 

“You all head down,” Harry bent and kissed Darci’s curls before guiding her towards Lou, “I’ll be along with Nicky soon.” 

Clouds had half hidden the sun, but that made the sand a little less scorching. The tide sloshed thirty feet from the rows of chairs, steady, reliable. Darci made grabby hands at Lou’s slacks so she hoisted her up, straddling her on her hip as Veronica spotted them heading towards the aisle. The dark-eyed beauty rushed to embrace Lou in one of her polished hugs. 

“There you are! And my favorite little lady, how is my Darci? Do you remember your Aunti V?” 

“No.” Darci shook her head and folded into Lou’s chest, being more obstinate than shy. The child didn’t have a shy bone in her body, taking after, well, both her mothers. Lou pet one of Darci’s silky curls back behind her ear. 

“This is mumma’s oldest friend, love, and this is her partner Li.” Lou nodded towards the stunning person beside Veronica, their toffee-brown hair coiffed into a tidy swirl, dressed to the nines in a mint-colored linen jumpsuit accented with a string of large yellow pearls. Lou enjoyed being able to interact with Li without the old hurts clawing at her, without parts of her buried heart struggling to break free and run away. 

“I like your necklace,” Darci said, pointing to Li’s chest. 

“Thank you, Darci, I like your dress too. Are you the flower girl?” 

Darci nodded, the chiffon of her little gown scratching against Lou’s arms as she wiggled and kicked her bare feet in excitement.

“You’re looking really good, Louanna,” Veronica said softly in parting as music began to play and the guests hurried to take their seats. 

Lou waited with Darci until she could see Nicky and Harry breaching the little dunes that separated their house from the beach proper, then she handed her daughter a small basket of flower petals and set her down at the end of the sandy aisle. 

“Mumma will be standing right there, next to Aunt Niallie, okay love? Do just like we practiced and then you can sit with Aunt Gemma, alright?” 

Darci nodded, her curls bouncing, both her dimples deep with her smile. 

Lou walked down and assumed her place to Niallie’s left. Darci followed, taking her task seriously and proceeding with studious effort as she dropped a pinch-full of petals wherever she paused. The wind kindly scattered these about, creating a slightly more aesthetic effect. As Darci took her seat, Harry began to lead Nicky down the aisle. The bride looked resplendent in her slightly too-snug gown, short cropped hair, and lace sleeves (these did resemble her work dress, but in the much more wedding-friendly color of white). Still, Lou could only look at Harry. She could only remember the afternoon that Harry walked down a very similar aisle wearing a blue satin dress, a mess of colorful flowers woven into her hair, her feet bare and sandy and slightly sunburned, slightly human, their baby tucked securely to her chest. Lou had never seen a more lovely sight. 

The wedding itself took very little time. Nicky had begged one of her fellow mediums to get a minister’s license, a process that had resulted in said friend going undercover as _not_ a medium to gain said licence, as there were restrictions for occultists. They lived in Florida, after all. 

Cheers and applause filled the air as Nicky and Niallie kissed to the pronouncement of ‘wife and wife.’ They raced off down to the beach as guests frosted them with teensy bubbles from the favor bags. Darci slid off her seat and found her way into Harry’s arms, chattering excitedly about the yellow pearls she’d seen. To Lou’s surprise, Gemma walked over and tentatively began to engage her in conversation.

“Do you know anything yet?” 

“Not—not really. It’s a bit tricky to find out, as you can imagine. We’re just going to wait and see, I think, have someone on hand that we can trust.”

“We’re all excited, you now. It would be the first time in recorded history.” Gemma made an encompassing motion with her hand and smiled. “Keep in contact, please? Come visit until you can’t.” 

“Of course, Gems. We will.” 

Gemma kissed Harry’s cheek, then Darci’s little hand, before disappearing into the mill of guests and back to her ocean life. 

“Mumma?” 

“Yes, love, what is it?” Lou cooed at her baby, still firmly snuggled in Harry’s arms. 

“I want to name her pearl.” 

Harry shook her head fondly and bounced Darci twice on her hip. “And why is that?” 

“Because she’s growing inside mumma like a pearl does. Grandma showed me about oysters. You give them an owie and they make a pearl.” Darci laid her head on Harry’s shoulder, sleepy, tender. “Did mommy give you an owie?”

“No, love, mommy gave me her tears.” Lou rested her hands atop the growing bump of her tummy, over the stretching skin that Harry had already anointed with a thousand kisses. But it had been a different type of kiss to very different lips that had given them this gift, this second miracle for which Lou really had no reasonable explanation other than the obvious: mermaids were magic. 

Harry looped an arm around her waist and kissed her cheek as the sounds of Nicky and Niallie romping in the surf reached their ears. The wedding photographer looked to be getting a bit drenched. 

Darci squirmed and Harry let her down with a quiet, “Stay close, darling.” The toddler ran a few yards down the beach before plopping into the sand; the substance immediately coated the hem of her dress as if she’d been dipped in gold leaf, the gauzy material acting like a magnet to the finely ground silica. 

“Mommy look!” Darci pried at the ground, her little muscles working hard. With a squeal of excitement she produced an empty clam, not very large but with a lovely violet hue and delicate ridging. 

Harry stifled one of her honking laughs with a hand to her mouth. 

“What?” Lou linked their hands together over her bump, cautiously amused.

“I was just thinking, that’s all.” But Harry had begun to dimple and a rosy blush had risen to her face.

“Of?” Lou’s stomach never ceased to fill with butterflies at her wife’s antics.

“I heard another one yesterday.” Harry rested her chin on Lou’s shoulder and whispered in her ear, “You make me happy as a clam.” 

With a terrific sigh and roll of her eyes, Lou pulled Harry close and kissed the satisfied grin from her lips, kissed her until Harry turned soft and needy and had begun to slip into a place where Lou knew her eyes would turn glassy, her lips become much too bitten, her panties lose their integrity. 

“Me too! I want kisses!” 

Darci was yanking insistently at the hems of their clothes, her little face pouty and cross. 

Harry scooped her up and smooched at her cheek until she giggled, perfectly happy once more. Lou leaned in and touched her lips to Darci’s forehead, to her soft, perfect skin, now speckled with sea-spray and dusted with grains of sand. 

“We’ll always love you, Darci,” Harry said, a promise. 

“We’ll always have kisses for our girl.” Lou brushed back one of Darci’s wind-swept curls, perfect replicas of her mommy’s. 

The tide crept closer by the hour, pushing the wine and cake festivities ever nearer the dunes. The sun had just begun to disappear over the horizon when the brides made a grand exit, eager to start their honeymoon. Guests began to dissipate as well, seeming to leave in shifts, until only Veronica and Li remained sipping chardonnay and reminiscing of memories that had taken place in another world. Soon they too left, and Lou found herself alone with her little family. Darci had long since fallen asleep on her shoulder, her plump legs straddling the bump of her baby sibling (an excellent chair). Harry helped Lou stand and together they walked up the sandy path between the dunes, their bare toes catching on the scratchy grass that stuck up in places like tufts of hair. The porch door slide open with a slight screech, and for a second Darci stirred, her eyelashes fluttering, but then she stilled again. Lou made her way through the dark house, following her memory more than her eyes, Harry right beside her, a hand resting on her lower back. As they entered the nursery Harry plugged in Darci’s night light and Lou laid their daughter in her crib, her flower-girl gown still caked with sand. 

They closed Darci’s door carefully and tiptoed to their own bedroom, Harry’s hand having now migrated under Lou’s waistband to rest against her tailbone. Lou unbuttoned her shirt as Harry turned down their bed, humming some tune or other softly in the back of her throat. They never pulled the curtains of the room’s one large window, and now the moonlight shone brightly through it, refracting off the ocean’s glassy surface. Harry shed her clothes before clambering under the white duvet, her naked skin looking like burnished steel in the moonlight. Lou followed, sliding close to meld against Harry’s body and push her belly into the giving flesh between the mermaid’s hips, letting her share their baby’s heartbeat, letting her imagine for a moment that she too had a little life cocooned inside of her. 

Harry stroked across Lou’s breasts, her fingers light and ticklish, teasing. Slowly Lou drew her hand down her wife’s side, her ribs, her hip bone, stopping at the crease of her thigh. She smoothed the curls of Harry’s mound a moment before pushing in to find the sticky wetness between her folds. The mermaid’s rippled skin pulsed, thick with blood, burgundy rose petals whose outer layers always guided towards their sweet center. 

Harry moaned, her toes curling against Lou’s calves, her eyes fluttering closed. Neither of them were in a hurry that night. 

“I still love it, you know,” Harry breathed out as Lou stroked her slowly. 

“Mmm?” 

“Pussy.” 

Lou squeezed her hand and Harry tightened with her, gasping. 

“Me too, baby.” Lou bent her knuckles and slipped inside and Harry’s hips stuttered. “And you. I love you.” 

Harry giggled, giddy as the first night they’d kissed under the stars. “Love you too, Lou.” 

 

THE END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Massive, massive thanks to all you lovely people who cheered me on to finish this, I couldn't have done it without you, please know that I treasure every comment. All the love to you all, I hope you enjoyed <3 Toni


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